The Second Chance
by Epsilon Scorpii
Summary: AU to the Darkness Within by Kurinoone, written with permission. What would have happened if Voldemort had given Harry a second chance? Continues from The Darkness Within Chapter 63, after Harry's capture. Complete.
1. Chapter 1: The Clock Strikes Twelve

**The Second Chance**

DISCLAIMER: I own nothing of J. K. Rowling and Kurinoone's universe. This story is written with permission from Kurinoone, and is based on Kurinoone's fabulous, beyond awesome story- "The Darkness Within" (which was inspired by Project Dark Overlord's wonderful story- "The Shattered Prophesy").

For those who have read this story previously, I have decided to rewrite the entire story as I am very unsatisfied with the great number of mistakes and how the story turned out. I can promise you that this will definitely be 70% different from what I wrote last time.

* * *

**Chapter 1: The Clock Strikes Twelve**

"No," repeated Damien frustratedly for the upteenth time. "I said _no, _Hedwig. Harry doesn't like birds that peck his finger, be it affectionate or not. You are not going to do that ever again, hear me?"

The snowy owl hooted, then hopped away, looking sulky, its amber eyes glaring at Damien. Not for the first time, Damien wondered if buying Hedwig for Harry's seventeenth birthday present had been a good idea. But it was too late to back out of it now; he had already spent his Galleons, and he had been training Hedwig for the past few weeks for the grand moment the clock striked twelve, in which he would present Hedwig to Harry.

It had been admittedly difficult keeping a live snowy owl secret from his family and friends, especially his elder brother, who had a knack of finding out things he shouldn't- in Damien's opinion. Somehow he managed to plunge through, storing poor Hedwig first under his bed with a silencing charm, then his cupboard, then the broom closet, only letting her out in the darkest of nights for not more than one hour. The shopkeeper had assured Damien of Hedwig's intelligence, but now Damien was starting to worry about her temper. Hedwig tended to make a lot of fuss if she were displeased. Harry had little patience too. What if Harry ended up killing the poor owl?

However, now Damien had more pressing matters on his mind. He only came to find Hedwig to distract himself from doing something rash. Part of him was screaming at himself- _do something, Harry is currently being tortured by Voldemort, and you're standing here playing with an owl! _- but his father's words came back to him, and his memory conjured up Harry's stern expression before him.

Hedwig gave another mournful hoot, and Damien reached out his hand to stroke her feathers absent- mindedly.

"Sorry for the hard time I gave you," he said, not for the first and last time. "But it'll be over soon, I promise. Once the clock strikes twelve, you'll fly over to Harry and perform that spinning- flying thing we practised before, okay?"

Damien could have sworn Hedwig rolled her eyes.

"Alright, I'll just be popping back to the Burrow," said Damien, looking at the timepiece. He was anxious for news of Harry, and the first place likely to receive information was Ron's home. All the members of the Order, including his parents, were there. Damien had returned to Potter Manor few minutes ago to free Hedwig from her cage, on the unlikely but hopeful event that Harry would turn up for his seventeenth birthday party unharmed and on time. "You can fly away now. Just remember to turn up when Harry turns seventeen. You still remember his scent?"

Damien held up one of Harry's robes and offered it to Hedwig, but the snowy owl seemed to roll her eyes again. She then hooted and flew away into the starry sky. For an involuntary moment, she looked as though she would nip Damien's finger- an owl's way of showing affection- but on remembering the youngest Potter's orders, hurriedly withdrew her beak and soared out of the bathroom window. Damien sighed and hung Harry's robes in the bathroom, before opening the door and letting himself out.

"Dad!" called Damien. "I'm done. Can we go back now?"

James had insisted himself accompany Damien back to their Manor. He was getting more and more paranoid since Harry left, and wouldn't let Damien out of his sight for more than ten minutes.

His father appeared, looking pale, his hair messier than ever. He ran his hand through his dark hair again, and refusing to meet Damien's eyes, he said, "The Order has news."

"What? What did they say?" suddenly Damien was afraid of the answer.

James did not supply him with one. He just strode over to the fireplace and threw a handful of Floo Powder into the red flames, which immediately turned a blazing emerald green.

"The Burrow!" he said, almost a whisper. Then he was gone.

* * *

Voldemort stood towering over the boy he'd once seriously and foolishly considered as a son, feeling waves of rage coursing through him, disrupting his rational thinking. Harry was clearly fighting the urge to hiss in pain at the flare of pain on his forehead, which gave the Dark Lord certain satisfaction.

Satisfaction that he'd hurt the boy that betrayed him. Stabbed him back where it hurt the most, like what Harry had done to him.

Meanwhile, Harry's heartbeat had slowed into a moderate pace. Now that he had had Ginny and Nigel safely out of harm's way, it was the best case scenario that he'd been hoping for. Right now, there was no knowing what Voldemort would do to him- he was well aware of his father's creativeness when it came to torture- but somehow the thought was steadying, almost soothing.

Soon, it'd be all over. His nightmare of a life would be snuffed out. He just hoped it would happen a bit sooner.

The footsteps stopped before him, and a familiar shadow cast over Harry. For some unexplainable, inexplicable reason, Harry was reminded of the time when he was six and he had been caught wandering off premises in Riddle Manor.

"I gave you your greatest dreams and ambitions," said the high cold voice, familiar, yet Harry felt a little unused to the coldness directed at him. "But it was you who decided to fill your last days with nothing but pain and torture."

An immense blanket of silence fell across the room; the Death- Eaters stopped shuffling excitedly, and waited with bated breaths for some action. Harry found an indiscernable urge to roll his eyes. That was the Dark Lord, always pausing for dramatic effect. Harry used to tell him that pauses only served to ruin the _climatic_ effect, but as usual Voldemort never listened.

"You have given me nothing but pain and torture all my life," said Harry, tilting his head in an awkward angle to raise his eyes, so he could meet the ruby red gaze. "Why end things differently?"

Something flashed across Voldemort's features, something unreadable; but Harry took it as a sign of vulnerability and smirked. Probably not the best course of action, for it served to anger his father further, and within minutes he had incurred the wrath of the Dark Lord upon himself.

"Macnair," said Voldemort, his ruby red eyes boring into Harry's, contempt and fury somehow etched in his expressionless mask. "Thirty strokes, no more."

He transfigured a whip from thin air and laid it down before the Death- Eater's feet, who promptly went on his knees to thank the Dark Lord for such a high honor. Voldemort's lips were pressed into a thin line, struggling to alter his personality from the protective father he had been for over a decade to a merciless killer within seconds. Harry could tell he wasn't having much luck.

For a moment, Harry was sure Voldemort was going to walk away- Harry guessed that as much as Voldemort had hardened and forced himself to inflict tortures and punishments, he would never stick around to watch the Dark Prince bleed before him. It was far from understandable to Harry, as what kind of enemy doesn't want to watch your foe suffer and die before you, considering Voldemort was the all- time Dark Lord? But he noticed that so far, the Dark Lord had avoided looking at him altogether, especially when the Death- Eaters were laughing and jabbing him in his back.

Although there was only one explainable reason, Harry didn't fool himself into thinking Voldemort actually still cared. He had been lied to from the very start! He'd rather die than let it happen again. The Dark Lord stopped for a moment to deliver his last words.

"You're throwing away everything a wizard could ever want, do you realize that? As a punishment, I shall ensure that you'll suffer beyond your greatest nightmares. You will regret doing everything you did, betraying me," he spat the last word.

Harry found himself laughing humourlessly, a dry and raspy sound that reverberated eerily in the chamber. "You gave me everything Tom Riddle Junior ever wanted," he corrected. "I never yearned for the things he craved for."

The Death- Eaters were now looking a little less cocky; most of them looked surprised. None of them had heard of Tom Riddle Junior. Doubtless Voldemort's past was still hidden in the dark to them.

Voldemort looked as though he was going to say something else, but Macnair picked up the whip and lashed it mercilessly on Harry's back, accompanied by the excited cries of 'ONE!' and the moment was lost. The Dark Lord turned on his heels and forced himself to complete the last few steps, ignoring Harry's hiss of pain behind him, fiery determination fuelling his hatred towards Harry Potter.

It was definitely bad enough that blows were raining down on his back, each one stinging more than the next; but his scar chose that moment to flare up to an unbearable point, causing Harry's first cry of pain to leave his throat. Harry could have sworn he saw Voldemort's steps falter, but he tore his eyes away from the figure he once called 'father' immediately after, opting to concentrate on the whip that sliced the air once more.

The Death Eaters' jeers amplified with each strangled cry that left him, rejoicing in the torture of the Dark Prince.

"My Lord!"

There was a rustle; a flurry of movement, and Harry caught sight of Lucius' silver hem of his robes trail across the floor, sprinting after the Dark Lord, before Harry's world was spun into a spinning world of darkness.

When his consciousness resurfaced, he heard the sharp cries of 'TWENTY- NINE' and sighed mentally. The whips weren't sufficient to kill him- yet. How long would he endure this torture?

"THIRTY!"

The last cry was accompanied by a bone- shattering slash across his shoulder blades, causing him to keel forward and kneel, face- down, in his pool of blood. His world was swaying dangerously, tilting and darkening; the pain in his forehead was so intense he felt as though his head might split in two. A trickle of warmth down his lips told him the worst.

A hand grasped his torn shoulder and pushed him upright roughly, causing another involuntary hiss of pain. A face peered closely at his, then jeering laughter rippled through the chamber.

"Only a few whips, and you get a nose-bleed!" cried Macnair, clapping his hands in malicious joy. The Death- Eater was childish, yet evil.

The laughter stopped as Macnair raised the whip for the thirty- first time. "Now why don't you come quietly to your cell, Potter... before I decide that thirty strokes aren't enough for you."

Harry caught sight of Lucius and his father standing on the balcony through the open doorway. An idea sparked in his dying mind.

"You wouldn't dare," he said softly, laughter suggested on his features.

Macnair's smile disappeared, to be replaced with an ugly snarl. A quick glance around confirmed that the other Death- Eaters were thinking the same. Determination to prove himself overcame his fear, and Macnair walked forwards and slashed the whip down Harry's back for the thirty- first time. The blow was not as hard as he would have liked it to be, and he was quick to withdraw the whip and laugh forcefully after that, but it didn't change the fact that he had done it. He had defied the Dark Lord's orders, and he was going to pay.

A hushed silence travelled through the room, and Harry saw through his blurring vision Voldemort striding into the chamber, his robes billowing behind him, Lucius following in his wake.

Again, a pause. For the dramatic effect.

"Harry's torture was a lesson in which you did not take, Macnair," hissed the Dark Lord, his wand trained lazily on the Death- Eater before him.

Macnair's face was an ashen gray. He opened his mouth several times, but emitted not a single sound.

"_Avada Kedavra!"_

Though Voldemort could have easily used a non- verbal Killing Curse, he felt it necessary to enunciate each word, allowing the fear to travel home. Macnair's eyes went wide, then the curse hit him. He fell back into Harry's blood with a sickening splat, lifeless.

Voldemort's wand was now pointed at the Dark Prince, who was set in a kneeling position before him. For the last time, emerald eyes met ruby ones.

"Goodbye Harry," he said, his face covered by an expressionless mask; the mask he adapted when he didn't want to show what he was feeling. Which meant he adapted it quite often.

This time, the Dark Lord did not utter the words. Just a quick blast of green light from the wand, and Harry slumped forward like a limp doll. Beside him, Lucius gave a cry, and darted forwards to the boy he had loved like a son. Severus Snape, who was standing in the crowd of Death- Eaters, clenched his fist so hard his knuckles went white.

"All of you, leave," commanded the Dark Lord. "And remember the lesson taught today. Those who defy me defy life instead."

If Harry were awake, he'd tease Voldemort on how much he sounded like a Professor.

Lucius was still on the ground, staring at the lifeless form, disbelief etched on his features. In a minute, he had transformed into a man ten years older, and tears of grief clouded his eyes.

"Another chance," he whispered. "He deserved another chance."

The door behind them was now closed. Nobody dared question the Dark Lord why Lucius was allowed to stay behind. Frankly, most of the Death- Eaters were bracing themself for Voldemort's call to carry out Lucius' dead body by now. After all, hadn't they just learnt their lesson for disobeying orders?

Voldemort cast a shadow over both Lucius and Harry. Twilight was now filtering through the floor- to- ceiling windows, bathing the chamber in an eerie red glow.

"Nobody deserves second chances, Lucius," said Voldemort, his voice soft yet intimidating. "Harry certainly did not. But I gave him one."

Lucius' head snapped up, his grief suddenly misplaced. "My Lord?" he enquired, tentative but hopeful.

The Dark Lord did not answer. He pointed his wand at Harry, and a trail of silvery mist started to leak from the lifeless figure. Lucius was feeling for Harry's pulse. He placed a thumb over his wrist, his eyes wide and disbelieving.

"He's alive," he half- choked, half- whispered. "He lives. But... how?"

The Dark Lord sighed. "The Stunning Spell masked in a jet of green light. If you had been more observant, you'd have noticed a trail of brown in the spell's wake."

Lucius crumpled to the floor, his back raking with relieved and controlled sobs. His robes were immediately stained with crimson blood, but he paid them no heed. For one long and uncomfortable minute, Voldemort stared at the two figures on the ground, wondering if he had made the right decision. But this decision seemed to hurt himself less, he reasoned with himself. By faking Harry's death, he'd have his powerful warrior back by his side, and the wizarding world's faith would be swayed following the supposed death of the Boy- Who- Lived. A win- win situation.

Carefully he extracted all of Harry's memories and placed them in a flask. Slumped, lifeless on the ground was another figure in black. Voldemort directed another jet of light at what was left of Macnair. Within seconds, there was an two identical Harry Potters slumped in the pool of blood; one barely breathing, the other completely devoid of life.

"Lucius," said Voldemort. "Alert the wizarding world of the Dark Prince's death."

* * *

The world stopped spinning as Damien followed his father numbly through the fireplace, his heart beating at double speed. What news did the Order have? Had Harry returned? Was he safe?

The atmosphere in the Burrow was unnerving. All lights had been extinguished, yet there was a faint silvery glow emitting from the dining room. Quickly, Damien hastened to follow his father.

The sight of the silver doe standing in the midst of the Weasleys on the table plummeted Damien's hope, but only by a fraction. A false yet strong belief had took over him. His elder brother would live.

But the silver Patronus took all hope in the Burrow away. It raised its head, and seemed to look at Lily as it did so, then spoke in the voice of Severus Snape, "Harry Potter is dead."

The awful truth took some time to sink in, but the Patronus continued speaking, ploughing on relentless of the grief and sorrow that gripped the room. "The Death- Eaters are departing for Hogsmeade within an hour. The Ministry has fallen. Macnair has been killed- "

A hurled ornament at the silver Patronus caused it to evaporate into nothing but silvery mist. Damien blinked, trying to get used to the sudden darkness. There was loud 'crack' as the ornament connected with the wall opposite and promptly, undoubtedly, smashed into a thousand pieces. This unexpected source of violence proved to come from James.

He was standing up, his face a blur in the darkness, but Damien knew with a sinking heart how his father would look like. Anguished, grieved. Broken. The way he was before Damien was born to him fifteen years ago. And after that, what would follow? An expressionless mask? A cold exterior.

Lily's sobs caused a searing pain in Damien's heart. "Harry's gone," she repeated. "My first son, dead."

Molly smothered Lily in her arms, as though to fence out every human sadness, trying her best to comfort her friend. For the rest of the occupants in the room, there was only shock; just before the truth sank in. Damien stared numbly as his stubborn father uttered his last words, "Harry is _not _dead", before James left the room, presumably to Apparate to Hogsmeade for revenge. James' statement was neither encouraging, hopeful, nor eloquent- it was just a statement of defiance, of determination to believe in what he wanted to, although that belief itself was already shattered.

A feeling of loss stole over the youngest Potter as he watched his father leave the Burrow, Sirius' protesting voice ringing in his ears. James would never be the carefree father he once was to Damien ever again.

Damien stared in the direction of where Lily was sobbing brokenly; the spot where James had vanished; the unopened presents the Weasleys had heaped on the table, another painful reminder of their loss. His first tear slid down the bridge of his nose, splashing and smudging the birthday card he was going to give Harry which he held in his hands. In one single moment, Damien had lost everything.

* * *

Voldemort was seated in his study, rifling through Harry's memories as though he were reading a book. A hesitant knock on the door revealed Lucius Malfoy, his pureblood dignity held high once again, now that his robes and hopes were restored.

"The Death- Eaters are assembled at Hogsmeade, as you ordered," reported Lucius. "They are currently stationed all around the Black Tomb, setting fire and causing general havoc. Only a handful of Ministry officials remain free of our control. Others have either succumbed to the Imperius Curse, blackmail, or have been killed. So far, the Order has not yet arrived at the scene."

Voldemort nodded. "And what of the Dark Prince?"

"His injuries are fatal, My Lord," replied Lucius, looking a shade paler. "The whip was laced with poison that prevented his wounds from healing. I have tried my best to staunch the bleeding... he should recover quickly," he added in reassurance.

The Dark Lord did not reply as he directed more silver mist into a rotating crystal ball, something that looked remotely like a Divination Prophesy crystal ball. Lucius twitched uncomfortably.

"A-Are those Harry's memories, my Lord?" he asked, a tad tentative.

Voldemort looked up at Lucius. "I have sorted out his memories, allowing him to remember everything he ought to... his memories are exactly the same as before he first met the real James Potter in person." The Dark Lord paused. "With the exception of Draco Malfoy."

Lucius was stunned. His son had always been Harry's best friend. "D-Draco?" he echoed.

"My spies reveal something intriguing, Lucius," went on the Dark Lord. "Your son was reported to have simply disappeared since we captured Harry Potter. He was last seen a house away from Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place, believed to be the Headquarters of the Order of Phoenix."

Lucius swallowed, his mind reeling. "But that is impossible," he said, trying to keep himself calm. "Draco would never willingly befriend the Order. Supposedly he got kidnapped?"

"Draco's combating skills would have prevented that from happening, I am sure- at least, he would have put up a fight, which would have left trails on the street. And right before Draco disappeared, I believe he was in contact with one Sirius Black. Doubtless he was brought over by the Order to plot Harry's escape, but they failed."

"No, surely not!" Lucius' face was wild with panic. He was so close to losing Harry, now Draco had went off to join the Order. Voldemort would doubtless hunt down his only son for revenge. "My Lord, I-"

Voldemort put up a hand, signalling for Lucius to stop. Malfoy immediately obeyed the unspoken command, falling back into what felt like horrified silence. What was going to be the Dark Lord's punishment? Immediate death?

"You know as well as I do that your son is living now, because I spare him," said Voldemort in a slow, intimidating voice. "But I will let him continue his shameful existence on one condition, that is you fulfill your duty as protector to Harry. If anyone gets a whiff of Harry's continued existence, if anyone finds out... I shall personally rip your son limb by limb in front of you. Am I clear?"

Lucius nodded, slight relief washing over his features. "Yes, my Lord."

"There is one more matter," said Voldemort, causing Lucius to go taut again. "I may have promised not to harm your son, but my promise will not stand if your son chooses to meet me on my path. If I were to find him opponent in the battlefield, or if he poses threat, and comes to my doors asking for trouble, he will have a more painful ending than Macnair."

Lucius nodded again. "Yes, I understand, my Lord."

"Good. Remember, you are not to let slip to Harry anything he is not supposed to know, including your son, Peter Pettigrew, and of course the truth in itself. Harry will no longer remember anything of Hogwarts, seeing as he only entered the school after he met his father, which I have altered his memories so he will forget. And lastly, the only people who know of Harry's second chance is are the people in this room, and I intend to keep it that way, understood?" The threat was barely hidden beneath the words.

"Yes my Lord."

Silvery mist was rolling in the depths of the crystal ball, containing the memories Voldemort had wiped clean from the Dark Prince's mind. The Dark Lord got up from his armchair. "I believe it is now time to cast the Memory Charm on Harry. Follow me, Lucius."

* * *

Harry was still unconscious when Lucius and Voldemort entered the room. The Dark Prince was now lying in his rightful room. However, it was a lie to say that his belongings remained untouched, for the first few things Voldemort did after learning of Harry's betrayal was to destroy all the presents he once gave to Harry. Fortunately, most of them were restored, although if Harry looked closer at the ninja blades, some of them were rather deformed (they had nearly melted in the fire).

The memory charm was placed without fuss or ceremony. The Dark Lord had important matters to attend to- such as the raid going on in Hogsmeade. After staring at the face that looked so uncannily like James Potter, Voldemort turned to leave.

"Guard the Manor while I'm away, Lucius," he said, giving his final order, before he left the room, Lucius in his wake.

Outside, the clock striked twelve.

Harry had turned seventeen.

xXx

Magic immediately engulfed Harry's entire being, lifting him off the mattress by several inches. Sparks targeted his every wound or injury, healing and restoring his powers to the maximum. One of the effects of the magic was to lift the Memory Charm, if not temporarily.

Harry's eyelids fluttered open as he took in his surroundings. What was happening? Why was he not dead? Perchance this was only an illusion created by his tired mind.

A strange hooting noise could be heard outside the window. Frowning, Harry immediately leapt off the bed and wrenched the panels open. Night air rushed in to greet him... followed by a snowy owl.

Said snowy owl started behaving in a ridiculous manner, swooping high and low, then turning a somersault before landing gracefully on his shoulder, hooting softly. Its amber eyes suggested that it was feeling rather annoyed, for a reason Harry could not comprehend.

On its leg, Harry saw a small envelope attached to it. Feeling as though his dream was getting weirder and weirder, Harry reached for the letter, and the snowy owl obediently lifted its leg, allowing Harry to untie it.

_Dear Harry, _it wrote. The 'dear' was then crossed out.

_When you read this letter, you have probably returned safely from Riddle Manor. Although I don't know if you've lost a limb when you read this (though I fervently hope not), words cannot express how glad I am that you have finally came home for your seventeenth birthday. _

_How do you like the snowy owl? Her name is Hedwig. If she pecks you on the finger, please don't get annoyed. I've told her over and over again not to do it (I know you don't like owls pecking you), but it's just the way how owls display affection. Even if you somehow get very irritated, please don't kill the poor owl, for I've spent many weeks training her and I currently have zero Galleons in my pocket, thanks to you. _

_And what do you think about Hedwig's performance? The somersault was pretty cool, wasn't it? It took me weeks to train and perfect her move. _

_Hope you like your seventeenth birthday present! Although you might not be feeling very cheerful right now, I'd still like to wish you a happy birthday!_

_Your brother,  
Damy_

Harry's fingers trembled as he read the letter. This wasn't a dream. He was alive! He hadn't been killed. But he remembered the jet of green light heading for him clearly. How could he live? And more importantly, why was he healed, then laid on the bed in his own room in Riddle Manor? Did they have other purposes for him?

Harry noted the Batra bracelet on his wrist and a cold chill ran down his spine. _Another purpose?_

Surely not. The Dark Lord wouldn't give him another chance, would he? He didn't want to be controlled all over again. What if this time he actually hurt his family? What if Voldemort wiped his memories again, and he never regained them?

The thought was unbearable. In blind panic, Harry rummaged around his drawers, and found some singed parchment and quill beneath his set of ninja blades. Quickly, he snatched up the quill and ink and started to write.

Five minutes later, steady footsteps started to approach the door. A bead of sweat ran down Harry's face. With uncontrollably shaking hands, he tied the letters to Hedwig's leg, petted the owl he could never have for the last time and practically threw her out of the window.

The door was flung open.

It was too late now to pretend anything. He tried to bring up his shield, but Voldemort's Cruciatus Curse punched through it and sent him sprawling on the ground. Magic was buzzing through Harry; he ached for a fight, but he couldn't sense the presence of his wand. It failed to respond to his summons.

Suddenly, something cold weighed down on his head, pressing and driving him to his knees. Images of when he first met James Potter, of when he first entered Hogwarts flashed across his mind, then disappeared altogether. Voldemort's Memory Charm was weighing down on him.

Harry tried to ward it off; for an excruciating five minutes, his magic blocked out the Memory Charm, but the Crustacius Curses Voldemort fired at him weakened Harry's magic greatly. He successfully dodged a few, but more kept coming. Lucius' wand was also trained on the Dark Prince, trying to breakthrough his blue shield.

Suddenly, the pain in Harry's scar flared, and for precious seconds he lost concentration. The Memory Charm hit him with full blast. Once again, the Dark Prince collasped to his knees.

"No!" Harry was now screaming, trying to fight off the charm. "NO!"

But it was too late to do anything. A simple stunning spell, and Harry was lying unconscious on the floor, the memory Charm engulfing his brain. When he woke up, he would be a different person entirely. He would be the person he was brought up to be.

In the doorway, Lucius' shoulders slumped, relieved. Voldemort had detected a disturbance in Harry's memories just before he Apparated away, and ordered Lucius to check on Harry. After that, The Dark Lord suddenly remembered it was Harry's seventeenth birthday, and quickly hurried up the stairs himself. It appeared they were just in time to stop Harry's attempted escapade from the window.

"Watch over him until I come back," said Voldemort to Lucius, after Harry had been Leviated onto the bed once again. "Do not leave this room until I order you to. If you lose him, you lose your son also."

With a final look at the Dark Prince, Voldemort turned and left the room, his black robes billowing behind him.

**A/N: What do you think about it? Please review!**

**Take care,  
Epsilon Scorpii**


	2. Chapter 2: The Last Letter

**The Second Chance**

DISCLAIMER: I own nothing of J. K. Rowling and Kurinoone's universe. This story is written with permission from Kurinoone, and is written based on Kurinoone's fabulous, beyond awesome story- "The Darkness Within" (which was inspired by by Project Dark Overlord's wonderful story- "The Shattered Prophesy").

* * *

**Chapter 2: The Last Letter**

Hogsmeade was a total chaos.

The Death- Eaters had arrived some time around ten o' clock, setting fire to the village and killing the villagers out of malicious fun. Bodies were strewn all around the place, blood found in puddles on the road.

Sickened by the sight and slipping over the blood, James and Sirius arrived at the Black Tomb, their faces hardened with grief.

"James- Prongs, listen, this is probably a bad idea. Do you have any idea how large their number is? They broke through the wards as though it were nothing," said Sirius, trying to grab his friend.

James shook off Sirius' hand roughly, angry tears spilling from his eyes. "Don't hold me back, Padfoot. If not, I might do something desperate- "

Taken aback by the mad gleam in his best friend's eyes, Sirius let go instinctively, but opted instead to follow his friend through the horrible trail of blood splattered everywhere. "You're not the only one who is grieving," said Sirius, trying to talk some sense into James. But how could he comfort others, when he himself felt torn apart? It felt as though the Potter family would never be whole ever again.

"Harry is not dead," repeated James, shaking his head as he did so. "Voldemort would want to kill Harry in front of all of us, before lowering him into the Black Tomb. It's the sort of thing he would do, to torture us. So there's still a chance... to save my son."

It wasn't without reason, but Sirius found the logic in that statement very forced. "Just be careful," said Sirius at last, his throat numb. "Damien's alone at Potter Manor. He's waiting for you."

James gave his best friend a tight nod, before turning to continue their journey.

The Black Tomb suddenly came into full view, making James' breath hitch in their throat. So far, they had encountered less than five Death- Eaters, none of which a few simple hexes could take care of. But as they approached the Black Tomb, they noticed with sickening apprehension, that hundreds of Death- Eaters were grouped before the platform where the Black Tomb was placed. Even in the unlikely event that Harry had survived, would they stand a chance to save him from Voldemort?

The rest of the Order were to regroup and arrive soon. Although how soon, James wasn't sure. He was not going to stick around the Order meetings waiting for plans and instructions that were fruitless. He had to do _something. _Lily, Remus, Tonks and half of the Order was also at the Burrow, attending the meetings. Ron, Hermione, Ginny and the rest of the underaged Weasleys were locked in their rooms at Arthur's home too. Only Damien insisted on returning to Potter Manor, alone. He didn't want any company. After ensuring that the wards were set up and safe, only had Sirius permitted James to leave for Hogsmeade.

There was a sudden _crack! _and the very air seemed to crackle with electric. One of the Death- Eaters had spotted James and Sirius. They were edging closer, smirks hidden beneath their black masks.

"The Master is coming," James heard one of them say. "He is bringing with him Harry Potter."

"Or what is left of Harry Potter," laughed the other.

None of them lunged at James or Sirius yet. The Death- Eaters were certain that Potter and Black were not going to leave Hogsmeade until the Dark Lord arrived with Harry. There was no need to rush in for the kill. The Dark Lord, after all, had given them orders- that James Potter's life was his to take.

Sirius suddenly caught sight of Remus' sandy brown hair. The third Marauder was stationed somewhere behind the Black Tomb. He gave Sirius a signal, then blended into the sea of black robes, making his way purposefully to his assigned place.

"The Order's here," said Sirius in a low voice to James. "They circle the Death- Eaters and surround them, though I fear not for long. Our number is barely half of theirs."

James nodded, pushing his grief aside temporarily. No emotions were allowed on the field, or they would lead to inevitable downfall.

The clock striked. Twelve o' clock. The witching hour of midnight.

Harry's seventeenth birthday.

Seconds passed in tension, everyone's eyes trained on the raised platform, awaiting the Dark Lord's arrival. Seconds turned to minutes, but yet nobody arrived. Hushed whispers travelled through the crowd, Death- Eaters, villagers, Ministry Aurors and Order members. Even Sirius shuffled and strained his eyes to look properly in the gloom. What was Voldemort playing at?

Then the Dark Lord did come, arriving with a resounding crack on the platform, a flash of lightning illuminating the overhead sky as he did so. There was horrible, impregnable silence for a few seconds, before it turned to muffled cries of terror. But still no one striked yet. All were awaiting the order of the Dark Lord.

The ruby red eyes quickly found the hazel ones. Voldemort's thin lips stretched into a mirthless smile. "James Potter," he mused, his voice amplified over the Sonorus Charm. "Come to join your eldest son."

James' fists were clenched by his side. His wand was already out, prepared for combat, but Sirius' arm restrained him. "Not yet," his best friend whispered in his ear.

"Harry Potter's death shall be a lesson to all of you," continued the Dark Lord, his red eyes scanning the crowd, causing many to look away for fear of eye- contact. "Those who defy me defy life itself. Those who stand by me shall be rewarded. My followers outnumber yours by five times. You are powerless to resist my reign."

"Admit defeat, and you will be spared. On the contrary, every man, woman or child who stands in my way shall be killed, instantly and mercilessly. You have brought war upon yourself. Today, Hogsmeade village is one filled with death and horror. Bear in mind, if you had cooperated, if you had turned to me before it was too late, your loved ones would still be alive. But the same cannot be said for the Potters, I'm afraid." Voldemort's lips stretched into another cold smile as his eyes locked with James' again. "Doubtless Severus has informed you of your son's death. It is too late for you to do anything right now. It is all your fault; if you hadn't convinced Harry to come to the Light, doubtless he would have been alive today."

"Alive a mindless puppet, controlled by you?" the words cut James' throat even as they left his mouth. "Harry would have preferred to die."

Voldemort cocked his head to one side as he studied James. "Well, what's done is done, isn't it? There is no point living in the past. Though I am glad you made it to Harry's funeral." He gave a mocking bow, and James' rage boiled over within him.

"_Crucio!" _he cried, a jet of fiery red light darting out from his wand. However, on meeting the invisible barrier, the Crustacius Curse sizzled, flickered and died, leaving Voldemort unharmed and amused.

"You might serve a life sentence in Azkaban for nothing, Potter," said Voldemort. "Why don't you make it worthwhile."

He flicked his wand once, and the body of Harry James Potter was held up, suspended by an invisible rope for all to see. Beside Sirius, James gave an anguished cry and made to leap forwards, but Sirius held onto his best friend stubbornly, his face looked as though it was carved of stone. Only the sparkling tears in Sirius' eyes gave any indication that he wasn't a statue.

"Not yet," he repeated to James through clenched teeth.

"Then when!" James was half- shouting the words, but he didn't care anymore. "Harry is dying, Sirius. I'm sorry, I need to do something."

It cut Sirius deeply that his best friend had called him 'Sirius' instead of 'Padfoot', which meant that James disagreed with him, and was going to do things his own way. Sirius' advice was lost on James.

"Prongs," said Sirius for the last time, warningly, his voice strangled with the battle of emotions coursing through him.

"Sorry Sirius," was the dreaded reply. James then wrenched his arm free of Sirius' iron grip, and to prevent his best friend from stopping him again, James sent a mild Stinging Hex at Sirius, then pushed his way upfront towards the invisible barrier. The Death- Eaters parted to make way for him at Voldemort's command.

Out of cruelty, Voldemort leviated Harry's limp figure across the black tomb towards where James was standing, separated by an invisible barrier. Immediately, the eldest Potter crumbled, his figure collasping pathetically before the barrier, in no state to fight.

"Harry," he repeated over and over again, tears streaming down his cheeks. "Harry, talk to me."

Voldemort laughed. "Try something, Potter. Why don't you try to save your son's corpse from my hands, at the very least?"

With renewed determintation and fury, James lunged himself at the barrier, firing ten to twelve jinxes, hexes and Unforgivable Curses in rapid succession, each blast stronger than the next, but no avail. Tears clouded his vision as he saw his son swaying like a limp puppet in the wind, and more jets of light thundered out from James' wand. However, all of them disappeared on meeting the invisible barrier.

Sirius was torn. Dumbledore's plan was to stay back- it was clear the Order members weren't going to act until Dumbledore gave the signal. But there was no time left. James was in danger. The Dark Lord was only playing with him; like a cat plays with a rat before it eats it.

Quickly making his decision, Sirius shouted, his voice carrying through the crowd.

"FIRE! All members of the Order and Ministry, FIRE!"

Remus, recogonising Sirius' voice, sought to support the second Marauder, and quickly raised his wand and signalled to the others. Within seconds, a full battle had emerged; jinxes, hexes and curses rained down heavily in all directions; only those within the confines of the invisible barrier remained unharmed. The sole aim of the Order was to break down the barrier, whilst the remaining Ministry Aurors tried to take down as many Death- Eaters as they could. For the first time in long years, Aurors and Order members fought alongside each other.

Voldemort could sense the barriers slowly weakening, but it was of little consequence to him. The only reason he came to Hogsmeade was to provide a little drama for the people, and instill fear within those who opposed him. Those achieved, his last wish was to harm James Potter, the parent whom, in the Dark Lord's opinion, stole Harry away from him, and converted the Dark Prince to Light.

He leviated Harry's limp body higher in the air. James was immediately distracted, and one of the cutting hexes found their target. Blood spread across James' back, rendering him temporarily helpless. Three more jinxes found their mark, but the fourth was successfully blocked by Sirius. Remus was fighting Rosier whose mask had been torn during their fight.

Voldemort dangled Harry's body tantalisingly before James before flicking the corpse into the black coffin. Another flick of his wand, and the black tomb was ablaze.

"No," gasped James. "Harry!"

Suddenly, the invisible barrier separating Voldemort from the battle cracked, only by a fraction; but it was enough for the Order members. With a cry, all lunged forwards, trying to enter the barrier. The first to do so was surprisingly, Draco Malfoy.

Voldemort did not bother to strengthen the barrier. He cocked his head to one side, considering the young Slytherin before him. "Another traitor?" he said, his lips displaying a taunting smile.

Draco did not reply. He swerved to one side, avoiding the curses Voldemort sent his way and ran towards the Black Tomb, where an unconscious Harry was being burnt. Draco made the mistake of stopping as he saw the face of his best friend. Was he still alive? Was there hope?

Behind him, Snape was duelling the Dark Lord to buy him more time. The Order members were too, fighting to enter the barrier, but the Death- Eaters were blocking the entrance with their bodies, sending curse after jinx at those who came near. James was now severely injured; his back was bleeding profusely, but he showed no sign of giving up.

Draco sent three hexes thundering out of his wand at the barrier. As he was from the inside, once the jets of light hit the barrier, the invisible shield sizzled and died, allowing all to swarm onto the platform. But it was all too late.

There was a massive explosion, and the Black Tomb disappeared amidst a plume of acrid, black smoke. Voldemort laughed and disappeared with a crack. Then Sirius' voice was heard, yelling, "Prongs!" with infectious panic. The Death- Eaters were already Apparating away, leaving irrepairable damage in their wake. Fire, blood, smoke, severed limbs and screams lingered at the site of destruction.

Draco stared in horror and shock as ashes rained down on him. His eyes were stinging with rebellious tears, from smoke or sadness, he didn't know. Amidst all the chaos, his knees gave way and he sank to the ground before the spot where the black tomb once stood.

* * *

Back at Potter Manor, Damien was staring blankly out of the window, lost in thought. His vision kept on blurring, but no matter how he swiped the tears away, they kept on coming. In spite of all his sadness, there was fear too. He was afraid he might lose his father again. Uncle Sirius, Remus, his mother, the Weasleys... all of them were currently fighting for their lives, and for Harry, at Hogsmeade.

Damien didn't see the point of going to Hogsmeade anymore. All was lost already. Harry was gone. Why did the Order members need to arrive at the village and add themselves to Voldemort's victim list? Was revenge wise?

However, Damien knew- if he himself were given the choice, he'd vouch to go to Hogsmeade and fight for revenge, too. It was part of him; Gryffindor blood coursed through his veins, as well as his father's. But he still didn't want the Marauders to go. He didn't want to lose any of them now that he had lost his elder brother.

There was the sound of fluttering wings by the window. Dazedly, Damien went over to see what the commotion was.

It was Hedwig. She hooted softly and raised her right leg, where a letter was tied clumsily. Surprised, Damien relieved Hedwig of the piece of parchment, petted her and allowed her to fly away. Damien turned over the parchment, and his breath hitched in his throat.

_Damien, _it wrote.

_I want to tell you lots of other things, but I'm sorry to say, I don't have time for it. I don't know what is happening. Voldemort's plans may not be as they seem. My plan is desperate. I have combined blood and magic. If Dumbledore asks you, I hope you will reject the offer, but I can't and won't stop you. You'll understand what I'm writing about in due time._

_Promise me you'll stay safe, and never remove the Layhoo Jisteen. _

_And thanks for Hedwig, her somersault was very amusing. Somehow I don't think I'll be able to take care of her. For that, I apologise one last time. I hope you'll be able to make Potter Manor home again, though it'll be really hard. _

_I know I was not much of an elder brother; indeed, I feel like the world's worst member of a family. If ever given a second chance, I'd really like to grow up normally with Dad and Mum. Will you ever end up marrying Samantha? Will Ron and Hermione ever get together? I suppose I'll never know._

_Trust me when I say I do not want to end this letter, since it shall be the last words I can ever say to you, yet if I do not do so, I fear none of these words will ever reach you. For safety reasons, please do not attempt to rescue or contact me again. Your efforts will be fruitless._

_Goodbye._

_Your brother,  
Harry_

The words and sentences in Harry's letter did not flow well; indeed they sounded as though the words were scribbled in a rushed jumble. The first few sentences were confusing and made little sense to Damien, but Harry mentioned that Damien would understand them in due time.

The parchment was slightly wet, the ink was smudged and blotchy, and the handwriting ugly, but that old and singed piece of parchment was Damien's most treasured possession. Tears spilled from the youngest Potter's eyes again, and he clutched hold of his eldest brother's last words, sobbing uncontrollably in the darkest corner of the room.

* * *

Later that night, when it was almost four in the morning, the flames in the fireplace burned emerald green once again. Damien was crouched in the corner of the living room, his head in his hands as he fell into an exhausted sleep. But as the figure approached him slowly, the youngest Potter looked up and found himself staring at a pair of familiar green orbs.

"M-Mum?" he rasped.

Lily gave his shoulder a squeeze in reply. In the dim light that filtered in through the windows, Damien saw his mother's hand reach up to her eyes again, before turning back to him. "You'd better come with me quickly," she said, her voice trembling slightly.

"Why? Where are we going?" asked Damien, trailing behind Lily.

"St. Mungo's," his mother replied, sounding as though she might break down any second. "Your father's... hurt."

Damien felt as though someone had squeezed his heart. Wordlessly, he followed Lily into the fireplace. The emerald flames shot up at Lily's words, and his mother disappeared in a rush of green. The youngest Potter followed suit hurriedly.

The world spun around him in a dizzying manner, before Damien ended up sprawled in a familiar white building. The odour of spells and potions was overpowering. Half- wishing he was still asleep, sinking in blissful oblivion, Damien pushed himself up. Lily was still standing, but her back was facing him. Perhaps she didn't want her youngest son to see her crying.

"James' condition is very weak," she said, forcing the words out of her mouth. "Healer Davis said to bring you here, before he undergoes surgery, just in case- " her breath hitched in her throat. "He doesn't make it," she finished at last.

Damien saw her hand going to her eyes again and took a deep, steadying breath. "Dad will make it," he said firmly, surprised at the reassurance in his own voice. "He's stronger than what most people think. It'll take more than whatever it is to kill a Marauder."

Lily laughed, a small, shaky sound, but it was hope nevertheless.

"Your clumsy words always manage to make me feel better," she teased lightly, squeezing Damien's hand for comfort.

Damien offered back a smile, but as they approached James' ward slowly, courage failed the youngest Potter altogether as he saw his father. Wires, flasks, spells and enchantments were weaved around James' bed. Only his father's face could be seen beneath the haze of magic.

"One visitor at a time," warned the Healer, ushering Lily out. He turned to Damien. "You have five minutes. Stay at least two metres away from the patient."

He nodded, then went out, closing the door silently behind Damien.

It felt weird talking to an unresponsive father, even so when aforementioned father had been a very noisy parent. The only recogonisable feature was James' mess of jet black hair, which both Harry and Damien had inherited.

"Dad," Damien started, his voice sounding more like a croak. "Y-You can hear me, right? Healer Davis said you could."

James' little finger seemed to twitch a bit, but it was more likely to be Damien's hopeful imagination. Something constricted painfully in Damien's chest.

"I'd really like to go and hug you for one last time, before the surgery... but Healer Davis said I couldn't. He said it might affect your conditions," he said to his father, trying to explain himself. James' finger stopped twitching.

"Promise me you'll stay healthy, alright? H-Harry's not around to save your life this time, so you must make it on your own," finished Damien, thinking that if he annoyed his father enough, he might be able to wake James from his coma state.

James' thumb twitched, and this time Damien knew it was no illusion. A brief smile flitted across his features before the door burst open.

"Time is due for Mr. Potter to undergo surgery," announced Healer Davis. A group of Healers entered as well, all dressed in white as they approached James. Tears sprang to Damien's eyes for no apparent reason. As his father was wheeled out of the door, Damien sneaked a touch, making an embarassing pinky promise with James' limp thumb.

Pretending to retie his shoelace, Damien crouched low and whispered in James' ear.

"You've promised me now, you've got to come out of this. You haven't passed on the Marauders' secrets to me yet, so you can't go. Recover quickly, Dad, and come back to make Potter Manor home."

**A/N: Sorry for the lack of suspense in this chapter. Please drop me a thought and review! :D**

**Take care,  
Epsilon Scorpii**


	3. Chapter 3: Spinning A Lie

**The Second Chance**

DISCLAIMER: I own nothing of J. K. Rowling and Kurinoone's universe. This story is written with permission from Kurinoone, and is based on Kurinoone's fabulous, beyond awesome story- "The Darkness Within" (which was inspired by Project Dark Overlord's wonderful story- "The Shattered Prophesy").

* * *

**Chapter 3: Spinning A Lie**

At Riddle Manor, Harry Potter awoke from an extremely bizarre dream. He raked his memories, but his efforts to remember his previous night's dream proved fruitless. Already the details were slipping were slipping from his grasps.

There was a quiet, hesitant knock, and Lucius entered the room, holding a Potion.

"Har- Prince!" Lucius exclaimed, his face relaxing into a smile. "You're awake."

Harry looked at him, surprised and suspicious. "Thanks for stating the obvious."

Lucius nodded, as though accepting a compliment. "Your potions are here, Prince."

Harry raised an eyebrow. "Potions?"

"You were hurt severely, Prince," continued Lucius, not looking at Harry. "You will require some Potions to replenish -"

Harry was staring at Lucius as though he had grown another head. "Hurt severely?" he repeated, looking disbelieved. "I think you were having a hallucination, Lucius. I am in perfect health condition."

Harry gave Lucius another withering look and literally bounded off his bed into the bathroom. He emerged a second later to confront a wide- eyed Lucius.

"Why does my bathroom smell of smoke?" he asked, his gaze piercing.

Lucius looked on the verge of panic. "Smoke?" the Malfoy repeated, looking appropriately horrified. "I guess I didn't clean it thoroughly enough yesterday. I'll just- "

"Never mind," Harry said, waving him away. "I've already got rid of it. What I'd like to know is the reason why my bathroom smelt of smoke."

'Oh no', thought Lucius. 'Barely five minutes since the Dark Prince woke up and he's already suspicious.' Lucius seemed to struggle on the verge of speech, but Voldemort arrived to his rescue.

"Harry, come to my study after your breakfast," he said. "We have much to discuss."

Harry gave Lucius one final suspicious glare before nodding in acknowledgement. He then entered the bathroom and slammed the door behind him, leaving Lucius to inhale deeply and carry out the tray of Potions to face the Dark Lord.

"My Lord, he didn't even need any of the Potions," Lucius said as they descended the stairs. "He was totally unhurt. How?"

Voldemort did not answer immediately. "Harry came of age yesterday night," he replied.

Lucius was stunned. "His magic healed himself? That means, it was the reason why he was able to throw off the memory charm temporarily-"

"I must remind you to refrain from using his name in other's company," said Voldemort, cutting across Lucius. "Once we step foot out of the North Wing, Harry's name must not pass from our lips."

"Yes my Lord," said Lucius immediately, the saucer rattling as he carried the tray. "But are the House Elves allowed to serve Harry?"

"No," said Voldemort. "Not in person. I do not trust them not to let slip something as important as this."

Lucius nodded and followed behind dutifully. "But when Harry starts asking me about the potions, what shall I answer him? And what of Bellatrix?" The flaws in Harry's memories seemed impossible to overcome.

Voldemort smirked. "As for that, Lucius, you can leave it to me."

* * *

Ten minutes later found Harry following the familiar corridors to his father's study. After knocking once to announce his presence, Harry grasped the golden handles and turned them.

Lucius was already present. He was seated on Voldemort's right, but when Harry entered the room, he leapt up immediately and moved over to the Dark Lord's immediate left.

Harry closed the door behind them and sat across Lucius. Malfoy squirmed a bit as he saw Harry's expression. The Dark Prince's confident and annoying smirk was not playing on his lips as usual. On the contrary, Harry looked a tad worried and suspicious.

"What was your last memory before you passed out, Harry?" asked Voldemort, his ruby red eyes scrutinising Harry.

Harry rubbed his forehead and concentrated on his memories. Somehow, it seemed so long ago. It couldn't just be yesterday, could it? "Bellatrix's red alert," he said suddenly. "I arrived at the building... there were figures in black strewn over the floor. I reached Bellatrix, but she was unconscious. After that... I don't remember anything else." Harry looked defeated as he failed to recall what had happened.

Voldemort nodded. "You were knocked out by five Stunning spells from behind," he said. "Lucius arrived shortly after that and hauled you to safety. Unfortunately, Bellatrix never made it. The figures in black strewn over the floor were actually Order members in disguise."

Harry's face was white; he looked anguished. His fists were clenched tightly by his side. "I failed," he said, as though he couldn't believe it. "I failed everyone."

Lucius felt guilt gnaw at his heart as he saw Harry looking so defeated in front of him. It hadn't been like that! Bellatrix was killed by Voldemort himself.

"The Order killed Bellatrix?" asked Harry, looking directly at his father. "Didn't they capture her instead?"

"Bellatrix was maimed badly," said Voldemort calmly. "She was hit by the Markalline Curse. There was no hope left. She begged me to relieve her of her pain, and I granted her her last wish."

Harry sat back, his head reeling. Bellatrix was dead! She would never be around anymore. No one to pester him. No one to force feed him his meals. No one left to bicker with him.

"Harry," said Voldemort firmly. "Harry, look at me."

Harry did as he was told, his mind still a whirl.

"It wasn't your fault," began Voldemort. His tone was stern and brooked no argument. "I forbid you to blame yourself. Grief is just another weak humanly emotion which I wish you to forget. Do you understand?"

Harry nodded absently, though even Lucius could tell that Voldemort's speech made no difference to Harry. Nothing would stop Harry from blaming himself, from experiencing guilt at disappointing both his father and Bellatrix.

"Answer me, Harry," said his father sternly.

"Yes, father," said Harry, his expressionless mask falling into place.

"Good." Voldemort placed a copy of the Daily Prophet on the table. It showed a Black Tomb, with the glinting golden words 'Harry James Potter' on it. "You have been unconscious for a long time, so I shall fill you in on the details- what is the matter, Harry?"

Harry was staring at the date of the Daily Prophet, disbelief etched on his features.

"31st July 1998?" he said.

Voldemort was stunned, but he quickly covered it with a sigh as though Harry's question was understandable. "You were Imperiused, Harry, by Dumbledore himself. Naturally, you do not remember anything of that period. You managed to fight him enough, and you did not disclose our greatest secrets and location. We only managed to snatch you back and relieve you of the curse yesterday night."

"Dumbledore found out your true identity at once, undoubtedly, after he removed your mask. The Wizarding World was an uproar. After I managed to snatch you back, however, I wanted the Wizarding World to believe that I had killed you. That way, it sways their hope from Dumbledore. So I made a Black Tomb in the middle of Hogsmeade yesterday night and pretended to kill you in front of all of them, before lowering a fake corpse into the coffin. The Wizarding World believed that you had turned to the Light when Dumbledore Imperiused you, so they imagine I killed you for the reason of betraying me."

Voldemort stopped and studied Harry's broken expression. "You should have killed me," said Harry, his face taut and white. "I failed you, not once but many times."

"I forbid you to blame yourself Harry," said Voldemort in a harsher tone than before. "Do not force me to repeat myself. I want you to concentrate on our project to seek revenge, and I expect only the best from you to make up for your past failures. Understood?"

This time, Harry did not answer. There was a loud crack, and the table suddenly split in half, causing Lucius to jump in his seat. Harry's emerald eyes were now a dangerous black.

"For how long?" he asked, his fists tightly clenched by his sides to prevent his accidental magic from inflicting more damage in Voldemort's study.

Just for a few seconds, Voldemort was reminded of the time when Harry regained his memories, and guilt stabbed him again.

"How long was I Dumbledore's mindless puppet!" snarled Harry, his eyes showing no sign of emerald.

"Since the day Bellatrix died," answered Voldemort, his eyes boring into Harry's. It was necessary that his son developed a strong enough hatred towards Dumbledore and the Order for Voldemort to ensure his lies were never discovered.

Harry had to clench his teeth to prevent himself from destroying Voldemort's study altogether.

"I'll be back later," Harry said, jumping to his feet and he practically ran from the room.

Harry followed the familiar road leading to his training grounds. Once inside, he bolted the door behind him, before letting magic burst out of himself. Bolts of power smashed through the ceiling overhead, and debris rained down Harry, but he paid no attention. Angry tears were brimming in his eyes, but he brushed them away quickly. Tears were a sign of weakness, nothing more.

He allowed anger to radiate out of himself, letting his magic course through his every pore. It would never happen again. He'd never be controlled like a mindless puppet by anyone else anymore! He would rather die than betray his father. Another bolt of power shot through his fingers, and the strengthened ceiling started to crash downwards.

Harry stared at his fingers in surprise. He had never been that powerful before. He had damaged the ceiling before in his fits of rage, but nothing that exaggerating. The ceiling had never crashed.

Then the answer came to him. He was already seventeen! Yesterday night had been his seventeenth birthday. But he remembered nothing of it. Thanks to a certain Albus Dumbledore. He now had his full power at his disposal.

Watching the blue sparks playing around his fingers gave Harry certain satisfaction, and enabled him to calm down. His father was right. He was merely wasting energy shooting his power around, damaging his training grounds. He needed to plan; to plot against Dumbledore and turn the full force of his powers on that manipulative old man.

He repaired the ceiling with a flick of wandless magic, then noted the absence of his wand. He planned to ask Voldemort about it when he first entered his father's study, but after learning Bellatrix's death and his being Imperiused, the thought of his wand had completely slipped his mind.

Harry took a deep breath and wrenched open the door knob. Almost at once, he nearly collided into Lucius, who was standing nervously by the doorway. Lucius immediately leapt clear of Harry's path when the Dark Prince approached. Then Malfoy noticed Harry's emerald green eyes and relaxed visibly.

"The Dark Lord was worried about you," he offered. "A-Are you alright?"

Harry looked dishevelled and sweat ran down his face as he turned to face Lucius. But he managed to quirk a small smile in Lucius' direction. "I shall be, after Dumbledore's demise."

Lucius smiled. "It's good to see you back, Prince."

* * *

_Potter Manor_

Since the moment of his waking, the day passed excruciatingly slowly.

Damien woke groggily some time after eleven, praying fervently that yesterday night had only been a dream. But the emptiness in Potter Manor was real, and the sight of his brother's empty and unslept bed snuffed out the small ray of hope he had.

Molly Weasley arrived by the Floo Network some time at noon to provide him lunch. She said Ron and the others were still asleep. However, Lily remained in the confines of her room for the entire day. When Damien asked Molly about the Order members' safety, she had merely replied they were all fine, except for a few casualities. So far, Tonks, McGonagall, Draco Malfoy, Mundungus Fletcher and Kingsley were still at St. Mungo's, but their injuries weren't serious and would heal quickly. Molly assured him that they would be discharged within a day.

Just for something to do, Damien took to packing up Harry's things into boxes in the evening. Since his mother was obviously not up to it, and James was currently hospitalized, it was up to him to clear away his elder brother's things. The sooner he finished packing up the better; delay only proved to be both cruel and hurtful.

Harry's Hogwarts robes. Harry's Muggle wear.

All clothes in the box.

The Hippogriff toy. The miniature broomstick.

All presents in the box.

It hurt him no end to stash away his elder brother's things, and more than once tears stung his eyes, but Damien assured himself that those were just because of the dust.

There were pictures too. One of them showed Harry and him chasing each other on broomsticks in the Quidditch Pitch of Potter Manor. Another: Harry was eating ice- cream and scowling at the camera. Harry looking guilty. Harry opening a Jack- in- the- box present.

There was another photograph, which Harry kept in his jeans pocket. It showed Harry as a cute one- year- old, held preciously in the crook of his father's elbow. James threw Harry up into the air and caught him, laughing as he did so. Lily reprimanded him in the background. Damien picked up the photograph and kept it in his robes.

An hour later, Damien had finished clearing up the room. He laid down on Harry's bed and exhaled a long breath. It felt weird to open the dusty cupboard downstairs again. It was the same cupboard where Lily and James had stored Harry's birthday presents before they learnt of Harry's survival a year ago. Damien sighed. It must have been really hard for his parents, to lose Harry twice in a lifetime.

Suddenly, from behind him, a very heavy something pounced, punching the air out of Damien.

"BOO!" barked a familiar voice.

"Uncle Siri!" gasped Damien, struggling out from beneath Sirius, who was grinning madly from ear to ear.

"I see you have found him," said Lily's voice outside the door. Damien looked up and saw his mother smiling.

"Prongsie's awake!" squealed Sirius in dramatic excitement. "The Sleeping Stag has finally pried open an eyelid! Let us go and pry open the other one."

Damien massaged his sore ribs. "Was that really necessary?"

"Aw, come on. I just wanted to enlighten the dreary atmosphere," replied Sirius, pulling Damien to his feet.

"Dad's really awake?" asked the youngest Potter, following his mother and Sirius out of the room. "Can we go see him now?"

"Why do you think I dropped by?" said Sirius.

"I don't know, maybe it's because you just remembered me? Nobody dropped by to see me since yesterday night," said Damien, pretending to pout.

"Ah, don't you get dramatic," said the elder man, grinning widely. A bit too widely, in Damien's opinion. Sirius had to mask his feelings too. Harry adopted the expressionless mask; Sirius grinned to hide his feelings and Lily turned away to hide her tears. Somehow, everyone found the need of putting on a brave front.

"Says the forty year old man who squealed and pranced about," retorted Damien, hurrying to keep up with his father's best friend.

Sirius gave him a playful cuff on the head. "If James were here, he'd support me," he said, reaching for a handful of Floo powder.

Damien grinned back. Maybe things would go right after all.

* * *

_Eleven o' clock, Night- Same day_

Two hours after being discharged from the emergency ward, James lay fuming in his bed at the lack of time his being allowed to spend with his friends and family. Lily and protested, Damien tried his puppy-dog- eyes look, Remus put forward an impressive argument, and Sirius wailed like a banshee; but the Healer would not waver from his decision. A smile tugged on his lips as he remembered how Sirius had clutched hold onto his bed stubbornly and wailed at Healer Davis, causing quite an embarassing scene for both. In fact, two guards had to pry Sirius' fingers of James' matress and dump him outside. One of them wondered aloud about Sirius' relationship with James, and sneaking a look at Sirius, James knew he felt as disturbed as he was.

A sudden stir brushed behind the curtains, slightly startling the tired Auror. He blinked again, then, on deciding it was nothing, he averted his gaze and stared up at the ceiling. A long, rattling sigh escaped him; a sigh filled with guilt, sadness.

"Dad! Is the Healer gone yet?"

The sudden hiss from underneath his bed jerked him wide awake, and he would have shot upright if not for his frail and uncooperating limbs.

"Damien!" he whispered, sounding utterly horrified.

"Is he still there?" his youngest son demanded.

"Gods above," whispered James, half- clutching his heart. "Yes, yes- he's gone- really, Damien, what are you- "

With a silent creak from underneath the bed, sure enough, Damien Potter began to crawl out on his hands and feet, wincing.

"Funny I didn't see him go out," grumbled Damien, his back stiff and aching.

"What are you doing here!" James exclaimed. "Lily will worry, Damy. You must go back. Does anyone else know you're here?"

"Uncle Siri," replied Damien, grinning in the semi- darkness. "That was why he started bawling and everything. Although admittedly, I never expected such a big distraction."

"_Never _ask your Uncle for a distraction again," groaned James, although he himself was smiling.

Damien laughed quietly. "The minute Healer Davis said that time was up, Uncle Siri gave me this... look, and I couldn't resist- so I ducked down beneath the bed when he flung himself forward to hold your mattress."

James laughed, too.

For a minute or two, both were silent; then James spoke.

"How was it at home yesterday night?" he asked, albeit rather awkwardly. "It must have been rather... hard, huh?"

The young boy looked up, his smile slowly fading.

"I mean- what I meant was, it must have been quite lonely... without- without..." James faltered, unsure of what he wanted to say. "It must have been lonely without me."

That came out wrong.

But Damien nodded, agreeing completely. "Of course it was lonely," he said in a jovial matter- of- fact tone. "There was only mum and me around, and the Weasleys, Sirius and Remus were busy with Order meetings. But now it'll be different... because you'll be coming back home with us!" He tried to end his speech with an excited uprise, but it came out as wrong as James' statement.

James shook his head sorrowfully, letting his grief win the battle over him. "Yes, Damien- it will be different, but not because I'm going home. It's not me that makes a huge, big difference at home. I'm a grouchy old fellow that shuts himself up in his room everyday."

Damien fell silent; his facade broken. Silence descended again.

"I'm really sorry, Damy," said James in a lower voice still. "I know I've been a horrible prat to you ever since Harry came back. I...I took you for granted. I mean, like... when Harry first called me 'dad', my heart swelled with such ferocious gladness... and when you called me 'dad', like you did everyday, I was swelling with fury at that time, because you never told me that you were in contact with your brother... I said the worst thing I ever did in my life-"

"You're babbling," said Damien, sounding genuinely amused this time. "Uncle Siri said that the last time it ever happened to you was when you were asking mum out on a first date."

James grinned sheepishly. "Yeah, I guess so. But your mum didn't think I was babbling at all- because she was all nervous herself."

A glint of mischief lit up the younger boy's eyes, a thing that had not happened since a year had passed.

"Uncle Siri told me about the first date," he said solemnly. "I never knew it, Dad. You never told me."

Damien sounded so serious and solemn that James felt instantly alarmed. "What?" he asked, sounding slightly panicky. "What did that stupid Sirius tell you? Everything was fine and perfect. Nothing went wrong."

Damien raised his eyebrows.

"What? Really! We... well, we just went to Honeydukes, and then to Three Broomsticks for a little drink and talked over our recent projects. Really!" said James. "What did Sirius transform the tale into? A lovesick lover going after a maiden who is after another guy?"

"Exactly," said Damien, still holding his serious mask in face.

"Now look here, Damien," said James sternly. "Our first date was NOT forced, whatever Sirius may have said."

Damien gave up his play and started to laugh. "Really, dad, you talked about _projects_on your first date? Uncle Siri told me that you talked about _weathers_on the second one, and I thought that was bad. No wonder mum rejected the third."

James made a splutter of indignance, then resorted to lying back down on the bed and squeezing his blanket as though it were Sirius' neck.

"I hate Sirius."

And as both burst into unsuccessfully controlled laughter, with a burst of immense relief and gladness, James knew that he had been forgiven.

**A/N: Thanks for all your support! Please drop me a review :D!**

**Take care,  
Epsilon Scorpii**


	4. Chapter 4: Recovery

**The Second Chance**

DISCLAIMER: I own nothing of J. K. Rowling and Kurinoone's universe. This story is written with permission from Kurinoone, and is based on Kurinoone's fabulous, beyond awesome story- "The Darkness Within" (which was inspired by Project Dark Overlord's wonderful story- "The Shattered Prophesy").

* * *

**Chapter 4: Recovery**

To the fatherly side of Voldemort's character, Harry's road towards emotional recovery was a relief.

For the next three days since he wiped Harry's memories and spun another lie about Harry's past, his son had pulled on an expressionless mask and refused to take more than a bite at every meal. It was slightly worrying that Harry seemed to spend too much time in the training grounds and eating less than he ought to. However, on the fifth day, when Voldemort was seriously considering the option of force- feeding the Dark Prince, Harry started to show signs of re- adapting his previous mischievious character.

Meanwhile, Voldemort's plans to crush Dumbledore and take over the Wizarding World received full attention from Harry. The Dark Prince's daily activities now revolved mainly around training and plotting.

Suddenly, an idea sparked in the Dark Lord's mind. Since Harry had come of age, Voldemort had not yet witnessed the full power of his son in combat. How strong had his son become, since Harry came of age?

"Harry," Voldemort said, putting away his quill.

His son was sprawled across his sofa in his study, just like in the old days. On hearing his father's voice, Harry looked up.

"What do you say to a duel between you and me tonight, at eight."

Harry's emerald eyes lit up. Voldemort knew his son enjoyed a challenge as much as himself. "Sure," was the reply. Harry cocked his head to one side and gave Voldemort a familiar yet forgotten cheeky grin. "I might warn you, father, my powers have strengthened over night."

Voldemort snorted. "Less of the talk, more of the skill. We'll see how much you have improved."

Harry grinned and put away a sheaf of parchments, containing discarded plans and maps.

"Our work is not yet finished, Harry," said Voldemort, though he did not look up from his parchment. "There are still flaws in your last plan."

"I'm off to do some training," his son replied. "What, are you afraid I might beat you tonight?"

Voldemort smirked. "You wish. You've never managed it before."

"Then why stop me?"

The Dark Lord sighed and waved his son off. Harry grinned and exited his study, closing the door with slightly more noise than what Voldemort thought necessary.

* * *

After four days of confinement in St. Mungo's, James was already bursting with energy. He itched for the discipline and thrilling life as a Ministry Auror as well as Order member, craved for another fight with the Death- Eaters. Meanwhile, Damien sneaked treats to him every night, when Sirius, Remus and Lily dropped by for a visit. James felt extremely grateful towards his youngest son. The tasteless soggy colloid St. Mungo's served couldn't possibly pass for decent food.

It was on the morning of his fifth day of 'imprisonment', as he called it, when he was grudgingly and finally allowed to be discharged from the ward.

"But you must not return to the field immediately," warned Healer Davis as James practically skipped towards the door. "I advise you another week's worth of rest and recuperation at home."

James refrained from rolling his eyes. "Yes, sir Davis," he said, giving the Healer a salute to show he was serious.

Healer Davis eyed him with distrust. "You'd better keep your word. I have no intention to prod my wand into your innards again."

James winced, then was quickly ushered outside into the arms of his friends and family.

"Prongs!"

"Dad!"

"James!"

And a louder, more high- pitched "Ooh, my Prongsie!"

James' wince became even more pronounced.

Hands and faces surrounded him, and something gripped his neck tightly. Feeling slightly nauseous, James pushed his way through the crowd of people he knew and loved, just to get a breath of fresh air.

"I would advise all of you to give him space to breathe," said Healer Davis' voice from behind. "It is the basic need of a human being."

Somehow, Sirius found the need of thumping James' back so hard he nearly fell to his knees. "Stop being dramatic, Padfoot," reprimanded James. "Didn't you hear the Healer?"

"Dad!" said a younger voice, and James smiled to see his son walk around Sirius and fling himself at his father.

"Ouch, how dare you steal my place!" Sirius started to feign a hurt look.

James rolled his eyes. "Oh, shut it."

Although he felt suddenly very tired and fatigued, he managed to spare grins for Remus and Lily, a smile for Dumbledore and a nod in Tonks and McGonagall's direction. After that, he rubbed his forehead ruefully, where a headache had blossomed.

Damien slipped his hand into James' and tugged at his father's hand, something he hadn't done for a very long time.

"Come on Dad. Let's go home."

* * *

After the welcome party, which consisted of various cakes, sweet things and unhealthy yet delicious 'junk', James, Sirius, Remus and Lily left for the Order meeting, which would be held in Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place. Damien journeyed to the Burrow's alone through the Floo Network in hope that the rest of the Weasleys and Hermione would be around. He hadn't seen much of them in those five days. Molly had assumed temporary solitude was the best course of medicine for Damien, in which case she was right, but the youngest Potter had felt the absence of his friends keenly.

Damien needn't have worried on that scale. As soon as he arrived spinning in the fireplace of the Burrow's kitchen, an arm immediately grabbed his shoulder and dragged him bodily towards the living room.

"Hermione! Damy's here!" yelled a familiar voice.

A bushy haired girl appeared, a small smile plastered on her tear- stained features. "Damien!" she exclaimed. Then, "Ron, let go of him. You're strangling poor Damien."

Hugs and greetings were exchanged before the entire pack of underaged Weasleys trooped noisily upstairs to Ron's room. Damien noticed that all of them looked tired and tear- stained. But it couldn't be compared to James. His father now looked years older, so did Lily, Remus and Sirius.

"It's been such a long time since I seen you," said Ron, as Damien collasped on the Weasley's bed with a sigh of contentment.

"I know," replied Damien, sneaking a look at Ginny. The red- headed girl did not look as teary as Hermione, but she was completely worn- out. Even Fred and George, whose joyful personality could never be tainted, looked weary.

"Where's Percy?" asked the youngest Potter, looking around. "Sirius said he didn't attend the Order meetings, nor report for work at the Ministry. Is he sick?"

"Nah, he's just... brooding in his room," finished Ron, his expression unreadable.

"Percy felt very guilty after Harry's capture," explained Hermione, a tad tentatively. "He thinks that he contributed indirectly to Harry's d-death." At this, her voice cracked a little. "Percy blames himself for letting slip the protective charms and enchantments of the Burrow to the Ministry."

"He should," muttered Ron darkly. "It was all his fault."

Hermione shot Ron a withering look. "It wasn't," she said defiantly. "Percy is your brother, Ronald."

Ron sighed. "Alright, he is my brother, but it doesn't change the fact that he was a prat."

Hermione looked around for support, but she noticed the twins were clearly taking Ron's side.

"I heard that Hogwarts is reopening," said Damien abruptly, just to change the subject he had insensitively brought up. "Sirius said Dumbledore wanted to 'train the future generation and equip them with skills needed to defeat the Dark Lord'."

"That might be pretty risky..." started Hermione.

"Oh come on, what's life without a bit of risk in it?" piped up Fred, leaning against the couch.

"Dumbledore's going to be extremely paranoid about security," supplied George, lying back lazily against his twin. "So we needn't worry."

"But You- Know- Who will definitely try to break Hogwart's defences," said Hermione, biting her lip in worry, but her tone suggested hope. Hogwarts felt more like home to her than anywhere else.

Ginny, who had remained quiet as the conversation continued, suddenly smiled. "All of you are so outdated," she said, pretending to scoff. "I managed to sneak a peek at the Daily Prophet before Mum threw it away this morning. Dumbledore announced Hogwart's reopen to the Wizarding World yesterday." Molly had long since banned the underaged Weasleys including Hermione from reading the Daily Prophet.

"What? The decision was confirmed already?" said Damien in obvious excitement. He had neglected reading the newspaper since the Daily Prophet started publishing news about the Black Tomb months ago.

"Yep," she replied. For a moment the old Ginny resurfaced, and the quiet sadness ebbed away as their conversation took a more amiable turn. "Majority of the Wizarding World supports Dumbledore's decision. Fudge was extremely against it, but just to please the commuinity he agreed at last. He even offered to send Ministry Officials to be stationed around Hogwarts to double the security."

"That's good news," grinned Ron. "I love the Great Feast."

Damien smiled dreamily. "Me too."

Four pillows were immediately chucked at the pair.

"Feast? You should've mentioned Quidditch, Damy!" cried Fred in mock indignation.

"Same for you, bro!" declared George, throwing a cushion at Ron.

"You should have mentioned the library!" said Hermione, laughing.

"Quidditch!" cried Ginny with infectious spirit.

Ron moaned and rubbed his forehead. "Not fair! Three of you hit me instead of Damien!"

The youngest Potter grinned and smashed a pillow in Ron's face. "Five blows, now."

* * *

At Number Twelve Grimmauld Place, the conversation wasn't as light- hearted as the one in the Burrow. The raging war and intimidating threat the Death- Eaters were posing added to the heavy responsibility of the Order members.

Dumbledore's face looked drawn and exhausted, but so did everyone else. James however, looked determined as he seated himself at the meeting table, across Alastor Moody. Sirius was on his right; Lily on his left; Remus beside Sirius. Dumbledore, as usual, was at the head of the table, with a bowl of Lemon Drops on his right. Frank and Alice were also present, but they hadn't spoke much except 'Thank you' and 'Sorry' since Harry died rescuing Nigel.

The Headmaster of Hogwarts steepled his fingers and spoke. "Severus is unable to attend our meeting today," he began. "The Dark Lord has questioned his trust since Severus fought the Dark Lord to buy Draco Malfoy time at Hogsmeade at the Black Tomb."

"Really? I'm surprised the Dark Lord hasn't killed Snivellus yet," said Sirius without thinking.

This drew plenty of disapproving looks.

"I mean, Snivell- Snape's allegiance was clearly displayed that night," Sirius continued. "He practically stood up against the Dark Lord. Surely there is no question against his trust?"

"Severus is very talented in the art of Occlumency," said Dumbledore. "The Dark Lord is doubtless, suspicious, but as of yet he has not excluded Severus from the Inner Circle."

"What about Draco Malfoy?" asked Arthur Weasley. "According to Snape, Lucius still remains in the Inner Circle as well."

"Draco is currently under the care of his mother, Nacrissa Malfoy," answered Dumbledore, the twinkle in his eyes disappearing. "Their exact whereabouts are as of yet unknown, but I venture Nacrissa will seek shelter at her brother, Marcus' house. Meanwhile, the Hogwarts letters are still being prepared by Minerva. They should be sent to the students by next week."

"We have less than a month to the date Hogwarts will be reopened," Tonks spoke up for the first time. Her hair was now a dull black. "Are all the security measures taken? What wards will we use this time?"

For a brief moment, the twinkle returned to Dumbledore's eyes. "Ah yes, the question of the barriers. I almost forgot." He looked directly at James. "This year, we will be using the combination of blood and magic to strengthen Hogwarts' wards against Voldemort's attack."

James did not have a good feeling about it. It didn't help that Dumbledore's piercing blue gaze was trained on him.

"This ward has been specially designed and crafted, and I assure you of its strength," continued the Headmaster. "Even if a powerful enough force is able to break through the wards, the wizard or witch who does so will be greatly weakened, if not killed, in the process."

"To accomplish this feat, however, I shall require four Secret Keepers. The Secret Keeper himself must remain in the confines of Hogwarts' grounds in order for the magic to work. Minerva and I have volunteered, but I need two more students from Hogwarts. Two more inconspicious and trustworthy students. I would prefer the two Secret Keepers to be drawn from the family members of the Order."

Lily's grip on James arm suddenly tightened. James felt the same happening to his heart. "If you're thinking of Damien, I'm sorry- but you can't have him," said James at once. "I'm not losing my last son."

Dumbledore bowed his head in a grave nod. "I'm afraid so, James."

"Who is the second Secret Keeper you have in mind?" asked Molly, her face pale. "Fred and George won't work. They don't care about responsibility."

"Ron Weasley," replied the Headmaster. "In case of any danger, I believe your youngest son would be able to defend himself better than Ginny, as he has come of age, and he has his full magic at his disposal." Dumbledore turned his eyes to James. "The same is said for Damien. He has proved himself more than capable of defending himself; your youngest son is almost as powerful as Harry. Furthermore, Damien has the protection of the Layhoo Jisteen."

"That stone will be helpless when dark curses are fired at Damien," said James stubbornly. "H-Harry warned him before."

The name of his eldest son still incurred a searing pain, but it was slowly numbed as the days faded away.

"No one will be able to enter or leave the Hogwarts grounds except the four Secret Keepers," explained Dumbledore. "In any event, both Damien and Ron will be perfectly safe as long as they remain in within the barrier."

"Forgive me if I am not comforted by that," glowered James.

Dumbledore nodded. "Your distrust is expected, but Damien and Ron were my best choices. Could you at least bring them to this table and see what they have to say for themselves?"

More argument followed after that, but in the end, the youngest sons of James and Arthur were brought to the Order meeting.

To James' horror, however, both Damien and Ron agreed at once to take the risk. In fact, both exchanged grins at the word 'danger'. James felt the urge to shake some sense into his son boil over. He caught Damien's eye and signalled for them to go to the kitchen for a talk. James' expression clearly allowed no room for argument, and with second doubts, the youngest Potter followed his father out of the meeting room.

"This is not a game, Damien," James said as soon as they closed the door behind them, trying hard to hide his frustration. "How could you just agree like that! You have not my approval."

"Why not?" argued his youngest son. "Dumbledore said it himself. I'm the best choice."

After Dumbledore's explaination, Harry's letter made sense to Damien. His elder brother had hoped Damien wouldn't take the position, but Harry hadn't forbidden his younger brother to do so.

"It is not your responsibility," said James firmly. "How do you think me and your mother will feel, if you were to-" Here the words were caught in his throat.

"Nothing will happen to me, Dad," said Damien reassuringly. "Nobody will find out I'm Secret Keeper. There are hundreds of students in Hogwarts! I can easily blend in. Moreover, so what if the Death- Eaters find out I'm Secret Keeper? They can't reach me. They can't enter Hogwarts grounds."

"I do not want you to place yourself in more danger than is necessary," said James, his face more tired and weary than before.

"If it's not my responsiblity, whose is it?" Damien started to lose patience with his father. "It isn't your responsibility to fight the Dark Lord and place yourself in danger, either! How do you think me and mum will feel, if you didn't make it last time? If you were in my shoes, you'd take the responsibility too. Because it's the right thing to do. Harry gave his life fighting the battle against Voldemort. I'm going to do everything I can to ensure he didn't die in vain."

James opened his mouth, then closed it again.

"I know, that was a very Gryffindor speech," continued Damien. Frankly, he was surprised at how well his argument sounded. He never had much luck at debating before. "But you know what I say is true, and I know you feel the same as I do."

His father was silent for a moment as he studied his son before him. At last, he sighed in defeat.

"Sometimes, I wish you were a Ravenclaw," he half- moaned.

"Nah, I'm not smart enough," smiled Damien. "If not Gryffindor, I'd probably end up in Hufflepuff."

James pretended to wince. "The House for the leftovers. I'd rather you be in Gryffindor."

"Dad! You're horribly prejudiced!" reprimanded Damien indignantly. "Neville's parents are Hufflepuffs too, and they were talented enough to become Aurors as well."

"Alright, I was just joking," James smiled at his son's expression. "But promise me you'll stay safe."

"I will if you stay safe too," Damien replied, following his father out of the kitchen.

* * *

Harry stood facing his father, his wand held poised, ready for attack. Lucius was silently observing from a safe distant, his interest evident.

Harry decided to go for a bit of drama.

"_En garde," _he said, tilting his wand slightly.

Voldemort smirked. His figure went taut, and suddenly three jets of light thundered out from his wand in rapid succession. Harry barely managed to duck the first two before he brought up his full body shield. Voldemort's spell sizzled and disappeared.

For the next five minutes, Voldemort fired hex after jinx at Harry, leaving his son no chance to return the attack. Harry ducked and swerved around the chamber, trying to edge to the Dark Lord's back, but Voldemort gave Harry no chance.

Suddenly, an Unforgivable Curse left Voldemort's wand- the Imperius, followed by three more Crusciatus Curses. Voldemort felt his magic weaken slightly after firing four powerful curses in one go, but he managed to pull himself to fire another Imperius Curse. The first four curses four punching through Harry's shield, the last Imperius Curse intended to hit Harry.

However, the first four Unforgivable curses failed to penetrate Harry's blue shield. The azure bubble protecting the Dark Prince flickered and disappeared briefly twice, but none of the curses managed to hit its target. A bead of sweat trickled down the side of Voldemort's face. Harry was right; his son had indeed grown a lot stronger since the Dark Prince turned seventeen.

The younger wizard quickly took the chance which lasted for a millisecond to attack Voldemort. As the Dark Lord side-stepped the seventh curse headed for him, he cursed himself for letting himself be distracted by his son's power. Harry's smile was growing more pronounced.

"At last," grunted the younger of the two. "I have you now, father."

It was now Voldemort's turn to swerve, duck and bring up his shield. They duelled along the entire length of the chamber, before Voldemort allowed a Stinging Hex to hit him. It gave him the chance to fire back three hexes at Harry.

The Dark Prince, who had been overly engrossed in attacking his father, overlooked defense temporarily. Voldemort's Imperius Curse hit him in the shoulder, causing him the stumble backwards, his mind suddenly a blank.

"I have you now," smirked Voldemort, advancing on Harry.

However, in the space of three seconds' struggle, Harry managed to throw off the Imperius Curse and fire the Disarming Charm at Voldemort.

"_Expelliarmus!" _yelled Harry aloud in aid for him to defy the Imperius Curse completely.

Voldemort's wand slid from his grasps, but immediately the Dark Lord tried to summon it back. Suddenly, it became a battle of magic; Harry and Voldemort were both focusing their powers to summon Voldemort's wand.

It looked as though Harry was winning. Slowly but deliberately, the Dark Lord's wand kept on sliding from his grasps, heading towards the Dark Prince. On Harry's face, there was a look of triumphant arrogance. The boy celebrated victory that was not his too early.

On the spur of the moment, Voldemort let go of his wand. As it sailed over to the younger Wizard, Voldemort used his wandless magic to blast Harry off his feet. In seconds it was over.

The Dark Lord stood over Harry, breathing heavily, but smiling.

"I won," he smirked, helping his son up.

"Not fair!" pouted Harry. He was barely panting. "I have your wand. According to the rules of duelling matches, whoever who wins the opponent's wand is the winner. And you weren't supposed to use Unforgivable Curses."

"In a battle you lose."

"You could have stated the rules and regulations a bit clearer before we started," Harry shot back.

"Excuses are all I hear."

"Then you're getting old. I'm supplying you with plentiful facts and reasons."

"It looks like the loser isn't gallant enough to admit defeat."

"Why should I, when the winner embraced victory purely due to trickery and cunning ways?"

"You fight like a Gryffindor, I like a true Slytherin."

"We'll duel again."

"I'm afraid I must refuse. Work awaits me. I have no time for your childish antics."

Voldemort walked across the chamber towards his private quarters in the West Wing.

"Childish antics?" Harry spluttered indignantly behind him. "Save me your excuses. I hear your old bones creaking and aching for rest."

Voldemort didn't like the age- related jibe. He smirked and delivered his one last sentence, his hand resting prepared and ready on the doorknob.

"You can never defeat me, Harry."

With that, he threw open the door, entered quickly and slammed it shut with his wandless magic. Voldemort smiled to himself. He had got the last word in.

Then he thought of something. The smile slid off his face, to be replaced by a curse.

Harry was still holding his wand.

**A/N: Please drop me a thought! What do you think of this chapter? Reviews are warmly welcomed!**

**Take care,  
Epsilon Scorpii**


	5. Chapter 5: Jumbled Emotions

**The Second Chance**

DISCLAIMER: I own nothing of J. K. Rowling and Kurinoone's universe. This story is written with permission from Kurinoone, and is written based on Kurinoone's fabulous, beyond awesome story- "The Darkness Within" (which was inspired by by Project Dark Overlord's wonderful story- "The Shattered Prophesy").

* * *

**Chapter 5: Jumbled Emotions**

Sitting in his room, Harry grinned as he fingered his father's wand. He had tried a few simple spells with it, and so far Voldemort's wand seemed to enable Harry to channel his magic through it a little more effeciently than his own wand, which was surprising. Once every few minutes, Voldemort's wand would respond to its master's summons by hovering off the desk for a short while, before Harry immediately countermanded the order and summoned the wand back to himself.

The thought of his father reminded him of the work still at hand. A little reluctantly, he put down Voldemort's wand. There was a piece of badly torn, singed parchment spread across his table. Harry frowned. It wasn't like him to leave his things unkempt, but lately he had been neglecting tidiness, focusing instead on revenge. He hadn't used his own study table for a long time; plotting in his father's study laid across his father's sofa gave Harry more inspiration.

But why was the parchment singed? Harry noticed the other rolls of parchment lying around on his table were also brown and slightly burnt. A quill and a bottle of ink were laid across the mess of parchment on his study table. It hadn't slipped Harry's memory that the day he woke from the Imperius Curse, his bathroom stank of smoke.

Had his room been on fire before? What had caused it? Was it Voldemort, Dumbledore, or his own fault?

Sub- consciously, Harry rifled through the mess of singed parchment scattered on his table. Suddenly, he felt a tingle as he touched the parchment at the bottom stack. Immediately, he retrieved it, and found himself looking at his own familiar spidery handwriting.

_Damien, _it wrote.

_I want to tell you lots of other things, but I'm sorry to say that I don't have time for it. I don't know what is happening. Voldemort's plans may not be as they seem. My plan is desperate. I have combined blood and magic, but I fear if a strong enough force were to break through it, the barriers will simply fall apart, allowing all to swarm in unmolested, although I have reassured Dumbledore otherwise. If Dumbledore asks you to be Secret Keeper, if you value the memory of your deceased elder brother and the measures he took to keep you safe, decline the offer. You'll understand what I'm writing about in due time. Promise me you'll stay safe and never remove the Layhoo Jisteen._

_I hope you will be able to make Potter Manor home again, though it'll be really hard. I know, I wasn't much of an elder brother; indeed, mere words written in my ugly handwriting is far from expressing my guilt. _

_How was it like, growing up normally with Dad and Mum? I suppose I'll never know. Sometimes I wish I never threw away my last chance to belong to the Potter family so easily, but I couldn't simply leave innocents to the mercy of Voldemort, when the betrayal was purely my crime. But for these last few days, there are many people I'd like to thank, but I will never have the chance. Sirius, for his assurance; Remus for his support; Ron for his selfless friendship, despite what I did to him in the past; Hermione, for her help and readily forgiving nature; Ginny for the space she gave me selflessly; Dad and mum for their unfailing love and understanding... you, for simply being my brother, for chattering non- stop in my ear when silence deafens me and keeping my uncompanionable self in constant, bittersweetingly annoying company. Now as I reflect on those little happy memories we had together, I can't help but regret, though it can't bring the past back. Wish I never pushed you away. Wish I put you first before revenge. Wish I could have stayed a little longer. Give me another minute, another 30 seconds! just a little bit more time to make up for all the years I missed. Wish I never missed your birthday party. Wish I would be around in the future. Will you ever marry Samantha? Will Ron and Hermione ever end up together? Only now do I realize the worth of revenge, but I have already traded a bag of gold for a handful of silver. _

_I can't tell you not to cry; being the Gryffindork you are, you'd probably weep your eyes red and swollen... at least that is how I imagine it to be. There was a moment during Voldemort's torture when I felt almost happy to leave this nightmarish life of mine, but on remembering the smiles and laughter we shared, I couldn't say I was willing to blow out my life so easily anymore. Sometimes I think we shouldn't have met. If only you never knew you had a brother! You'd never need to suffer the way Dad and Mum did. If only you didn't come to annoy and barge into my private life; if only you never forgave me for trying to kill Dad, maybe things would have been better. If Dad and Mum had really hated me, I feel as though it would hurt less for me to leave this world I just started to love behind._

_Trust me when I say I do not want to end this letter, as it shall be the last I can ever say to you, yet if I do not do so, I fear none of these words will ever reach your hands. For safety reasons, please do not attempt to rescue or contact me again. Your efforts will be fruitless._

_Goodbye._

_31st July 1997  
Your brother,  
Harry._

The word 'goodbye' was smudged badly.

His breath was ragged when he reached the last line; each word written by his own hand, meant for an unknown brother named Damien, sent a wave of horror crashing through him. 31st July 1997, the night he turned seventeen. The last day he was under the control of Albus Dumbledore. He had been a traitor! He had betrayed his father. But Voldemort gave him another chance. Told him it wasn't his fault, and to get over it.

How could his father forget his betrayal so easily?

But at the same time, if Harry were under the influence of the Imperius Curse placed by Dumbledore, why and how did he write a letter warning the unknown 'Damien' to reject Dumbledore's offer? Hadn't he been obeying Dumbledore's orders, seeing as it was Dumbledore who placed the Imperius Curse?

There was slight rustle outside the door. Following some obscure instinct, Harry immediately shoved the piece of parchment back under the pile of mess on his desk. He was just in time; the next second, the door was flung open, and his father stood in the doorway, looking at him with an irritated expression.

"I think you've had enough fun with another's wand. Give it back, now."

Harry was clearly not in the mood for being cheeky. The previous glint of mischief lit the emerald green orbs no longer. Without a word Harry handed back Voldemort his wand. But when his father leaned in to grab back the wand, Harry's grip on it tightened.

"One last question, and I'll put it by," Harry said, not looking at his father.

"What?" Voldemort asked, looking slightly surprised at Harry's tone.

"Who exactly placed the Imperius on me? Was it Dumbledore himself, or one of the members in the Order?"

For a moment, Voldemort did not answer. But when Harry slowly raised his eyes to meet the ruby red ones, the Dark Lord replied in a tone barely louder than a whisper- "James Potter."

A wave of understanding crashed over the younger of the pair. It had been James Potter all the time! James Potter who controlled Harry to write the letter, so that Damien, presumably James' second son, would be safe from the hazard of following Dumbledore's orders. Slowly, the grip on Voldemort's wand slackened, but the Dark Lord did not pull it away from his son's grasps.

"What troubles you?" he asked.

"Nothing," was the crude reply.

Harry never gave his father one- worded answers before. All answers came with elaboration and explainations, but this time it was different. For a moment, Voldemort stood holding his wand, until Harry let go completely and turned his back to his father.

"And here I was expecting a huge fuss," muttered Voldemort under his breath as he left the room.

* * *

At the very same moment, the man Harry secretly yearned to kill laid fresh flowers sprinkled with tears on a mound of earth in the Potter Manor backyard, and sat beside the headstone alone, his black and white suit drenched as the light dirzzle seeped through the material. His calloused hands caressed the golden words engraved in black marble- _Harry James Potter_ for the second time; feeling the pain of losing his son twice in his life.

* * *

Damien rose during late morning the next day. Harry's quiet funeral yesterday night had taken quite a lot out of him. The wounds he assured himself had healed appeared not to be so. He had tried but failed to put up a brave front for the last few days; thinking that if his mother saw him strong again, she would feel better knowing there was a reliable shoulder to cry on to, besides his father. However, it didn't seem to help much; if any, Lily seemed sadder when Damien acted uncaring, as she saw through his mask like only a mother could. Seeing as Damien didn't like putting on masks, especially since Harry's expressionless mask shut Damien out sometimes, the youngest Potter decided to discard it altogether. What was the point of forcing himself to do something he didn't enjoy doing when his efforts didn't even achieve its purpose?

For some reason, misery engulfed Damien for the rest of the day, and he stayed in his room, not bothering to go downstairs for a meal, not even to visit the Weasleys, who had provided him endless comfort when James was hurt and Lily broken. He just stared into space, his mind a complete jumble, swiping away the occasional rebellious tear that strayed.

Now if nobody had interrupted Damien, and left him to the confines of his room without disturb, the youngest Potter would probably have succumbed to what his father became fifteen years ago; a living corpse. The thought of the noisy Weasleys no longer brought him comfort, just a sense of tiredness; the thought of Hermione and Ginny did not trigger a small smile anymore.

Hushed voices outside his door, however, brought him out of his reverie.

"No, Lily, I'll take it," that was James' voice. "I've never served Damy food before, he'd be so surprised that he won't be moody anymore and eat something."

"Damy might think you're only treating him this nice because you think he's weak and needs special attention..." Lily's voice drifted in through the door, twitching Damien's lips into an uncontained smile.

"That's Harry you're thinking of," said James.

Damien felt his heart constrict _again _at the name but ignored the pain completely.

There was silence outside the door for a while, then James whispered (rather loudly, in Damien's opinion) "I'll take it, dear- now don't worry, I've managed the violent one before, this one's more docile. No, you can go downstairs now- don't keep staring at me. I'm a trained Auror. I feel uncomfortable with your piercing gaze on me."

"Damy might be feeling rather upset... you'd better comfort him, however clumsy your words may be. I still think it's a better idea if I serve Damien instead." Lily's voice grew fainter and fainter, and her footsteps down the stairs faded away.

Trying to maintain a straight face, Damien pretended to flip through Quidditch Through the Ages, his senses buzzing on high alert, awaiting James to knock on his door. But the expected sound of his father's knuckles rapping smartly on his wooden door never came. Feeling slightly restless, Damien continued to flip through the book listlessly, until he finally couldn't bear it anymore. He looked up at his door. It was still closed. But where light from outside could filter in through the crack under the door, it was obscured by two somethings- James' feet.

For some reason, his father was standing outside his door. Presumably thinking what would be the best thing to say to his son. Damien could barely keep the grin off his face. Taking a deep breath, Damien silently crept forwards and placed a hand on the doorknob, preparing to throw open the door and catch his father by surprise. However, James chose that exact unfortunate moment to open the door. Both father and son who were not expecting another force to act on the door stumbled back slightly. This was more serious a situation for James, who was carrying the lunch tray.

"NO!" yelled James as the tray slid from his hands. "_Wingardium Leviosa_!"

Damien appeared just in time to save the beautifully boiled brown eggs; James saved the rest of the tray except for the bottle of tomato sauce. James and Damien looked at each other for a moment before bursting into laughter.

James and his youngest son leviated what was left of the lunch tray into Damien's room and shut the door behind them.

"Good thing we both have good reflexes," remarked James as he put down the tray with a contented sigh. "Imagine if there were three less eggs in the world that contributed nothing to our welfare."

"I'm starting to wish you hadn't saved the tray," groaned Damien, surveying the pile of food Lily heaped on his plate. "I can't finish all this, and mum will reprimand me if I don't."

"But you love food!" interjected James.

Damien sighed. "My appetite vanishes every day."

"Oh no," moaned James. "I don't want a scrawny git for a son."

"Never mind," Damien consoled his father. "I won't be a git. Just a bit scrawny."

James frowned. "I would prefer you to be fat, plum and chubby like your cousin Dudley."

"EW!" Damien swatted his father's arm. "Seriously, Dad!"

James laughed. "Okay, maybe not. Well, if you're not going to eat your lunch, I am," he said, automatically helping himself to the golden fries on Damien's plate with his none- too- clean hands.

"Your fingernails are black!" Damien pushed away James' twitching fingers. "You're not picking anything off my plate with hands that state."

"Oh the cruelty," sighed James dramatically as he cleaned his hands with a simple Cleaning Charm. "There, satisfied?"

Damien pretended to scrutinise his father's hands for a full minute before nodding. James rolled his eyes. "When were you a clean freak anyway? You take after me. Harry... he takes- took after your mother more."

James stopped speaking, afraid that his words had saddened his son. The youngest Potter did not reply; he had shoved a whole omelette into his mouth. Three seconds later, he started to cough.

"Why did you do that for!" cried James. "Are you choking? Damien! Look at me. Are you okay?"

Damien choked down the last of the egg and glared at his father through slightly bleary eyes. "A little psychology lesson for you, Dad. Next time when people do something out of the blue exp. choke down enormous mouthfuls of food, it's because they want to hide what they are feeling, act nonchalant, lighten the atmosphere, or hide their face. Get it? Next time, don't ask."

James' figure relaxed visibly. He would have laughed out loud, but he didn't think he was allowed to. "Eh, heh. Yes, I think I do."

Damien pursed his lips. "You seriously have no tact."

"Hey, you take after me too you know," said James, shooting his youngest son a glare.

"Glad I do," said Damien with a sigh and lay back on his couch.

"What happened to cheeky replies?" asked James, his tone not as light- hearted as before. "Recently I've missed your Marauder genes. My Marauder spirit is a bit dampened. I need you to boost it a bit."

Damien shook his head, his face partially hidden beneath a cushion. "I can't. My brain's a mess. Total chaos. Now nothing is normal."

James stopped, feeling the searing numbness spreading rapidly across his heart. He opened his mouth, but didn't know what to say to comfort his son.

Damien was still talking, face beneath the cushion. "I can't smile without thinking of him; I can't laugh without wondering if Harry will too see the humor in the joke. I've become someone else now, a git that puts on masks and brave fronts automatically for no reason. Sometimes my feet bring me automatically to Harry's door before the empty room reminds me to turn around. Even if I sleep, even if I close my eyes, even if I'm reading... curse it, I can't forget him! Not a single moment of my life since he left have I felt complete. Whole."

"Nobody told you to," James said quietly. "I never wanted you to forget Harry; nor did your mother or anyone else. Harry is still your brother, although he may have left. Why do you want to forget someone you held dear?"

"I don't know," mumbled Damien, his head now buried completely in the couch so his voice was muffled. "I thought maybe... forgetting Harry would make the pain go away too. When it was too unbearable, I often wished I would forget him. But sometimes I don't want to. I just... argh, it's too complicated."

"I know," whispered James softly. "I felt like that too. But after I met Harry last year as the Dark Prince... after I found out that he didn't die when Pettigrew snatched my son away, I regretted trying to forget Harry. At that time, I thought like you did; I had this theory that if I was able to forget my first son, I would throw away all the pain too. But it was useless; a wrong decision. I kept you from it, Damien... that was why I didn't tell you all these years you had a brother you never knew. I was trying to forget Harry, to hide from the pain."

Damien now sat up. He didn't look teary, but James never thought Damien could look so miserable. He was biting his lower lip, looking at the ceiling, shoulders slumped. For a moment both were completely silent, then James decided to break it.

"Please Damy..." he said, unsure if his statement would come out more like a joke or an honest whisper. "Whatever you do, don't keep quiet. It's not natural for you."

Damien smiled a little, but James was not comforted. "Nothing is natural anymore, Dad," the younger of the pair said. "Not since he left us behind. I can't... I don't think I can ever joke around anymore."

James was taken aback. "But you were coping fine all through last week and the week before! You laughed; joked... I-I thought you were recovering," his father told him seriously.

"I told you, I was wearing a mask," said Damien, sounding more and more emotionless. "I thought it'd assure you and mum that I was fine."

Emotionless? No!

"No, no, no!" as soon as the word 'emotionless' flitted across James' mind, he was reminded painfully of Harry, and how much it took to draw his eldest son out of his shell, sending the alarm bells in his head ringing. He leapt across the room to shake his youngest son. "No, Damien! You're never like this! What happened to you?"

Damien kept quiet for a while, before suddenly bursting out angrily, making a taken aback James to back away by one step. "Harry died, that is what happened! The brother I had for not more than two years left me behind, just like that! Do you know how much I've yearned for an elder brother, for his approval? That's why I took all the crap Harry gave me for the first few months! That's why I didn't tell you the truth, that Harry had always been in contact with me long before he was caught. I lied to you just because Harry told me to. Because I wanted my elder brother's trust and approval badly. And now he's gone! All is wasted."

James stared at his youngest son in shock, and felt Damien ebbing away from him. He glanced at the remaining lunch on the tray then Damien's stock still figure.

Where had Damien Potter gone? The cheerful figure that warmed up the hardest hearts? The ever hungry son that never left food untouched? The burning Marauder spirit his father was so proud of? The ever- smiling, annoying spoilt brat? The passionate Quidditch fanatic? The son he loved, the son he never knew could be this precious, was reduced to something he never was- an emotionless mask. He had taken his youngest son for granted. James had always expected Damien to be there for him; to cheer him up with his contagious smiles. But it wasn't so. Damien's heart had followed Harry's when he left, leaving a stranger behind with James.

Hazel eyes clouded over as they watched the son he never learnt to cherish until now.

Silence was met at Damien's words. James didn't know how to comfort his son. He just stood by helplessly as he watched the youngest Potter cradle his head in his hands. The father in James wanted to go forward and hug Damien, fence out every human ill, until his son was well, yet suddenly there was an unfamiliar part of Damien that radiated unwelcome. James tried taking half a step forwards, but Damien twitched slightly away from where he was.

"A-Are you okay?" James felt he had to ask no matter how daft the question sounded.

Damien shook his head. "No, far from it. I-I just want to be left alone."

Those words hurt James more than he thought possible. It suddenly felt as though Damien had transformed into the Harry that was cold and hated his father before. Tears stung his eyes as James stood up and moved over to the door.

"I've already lost Harry," he said. "Please don't let me lose you too Damy."

He ruffled his son's hair fondly just as he used to before leaving, but no reprimanding voice protested. Damien just managed to stay upright until his father had left the room, before crumbling into sobs, each leaving him more tired and miserable than before.

* * *

It seemed as though the talk, however emotional it may have been, did Damien some good, for by the time the clock struck twelve, a very desolate James nearly bumped into his youngest son on the staircase.

"Damy?" the elder of the pair greeted hopefully.

"Hello father," came the more familiar response. James noticed Damien's eyes were red and swollen, which held no surprises.

"Are you okay?" James asked, concerned.

"Better now," said Damien tiredly. "And sorry about just now. I felt so jumbled up... I guess I went a bit hysterical and went out of character," this part sounded a bit sheepish. "Sorry for scaring you. And thanks for... well, letting me yell a bit and all that."

James laughed, feeling warmth and relief wash through him. Damien grinned at his father.

"What are you doing here, anyway?" asked James.

"I was on the way to the kitchen," replied Damien. "The lunch tray couldn't last me past the night."

James' eyes widened comically. "Supper? You actually want supper?"

Damien frowned. "What's wrong with supper?"

His father's lips had broken into a huge grin. Before Damien could stop him, however, James had bounded back up the stairs, yelling as though he were proclaiming to the entire world the best news ever. "LILY! Damy wants supper!"

The youngest Potter was completely bewildered. "Dad!" was all he managed, before Lily came out of the room, smiling.

"You're hungry?" she asked, squeezing his arm warmly. "What would you like for supper?"

Damien felt the sudden attention his parents were showering on him nothing short of alarming. "What's going on? You both act as though I've just woken from the dead."

James smiled sheepishly. "I... I thought I'd never have the old you back again. After your alarming speech, it kind of freaked me out, and-"

"You told mum, and mum got freaked out as well," continued Damien dryly, though he was fighting the grin that was breaking out on his face, mirroring his father.

"Ah, that really explains it all," said James. "Lily, I'm hungry too."

Lily laughed. "A moment ago you said you had lost your appetite forever."

James winked at Damien. "The truth of what I say always depend on the change of circumstances around me."

It wasn't a very grand supper, for James and Damien decided to help out in the kitchen and ended up making a mess of it. But as the three Potters sat around the kitchen table spooning egg sandwiches into their mouths, Damien couldn't help but feel as though the brilliant flames from the fireplace were warmer than before, and it filled him with contentment.

Maybe, he thought, even though Harry had left them behind, Potter Manor could be home again. His brother may never be around anymore, but Damien knew that the brotherly relationship he shared with Harry could never die.

* * *

Voldemort did not get much rest that night- the thought of Harry's sudden burst of fury when his son asked the question "_Who exactly placed the Imperius Curse on me?" _plagued his thoughts, and Voldemort had doubt niggling at the back of his mind.

What if Harry had managed to leave a trail for himself to regain his memories, the moment he turned seventeen that night?

But already Voldemort had performed a thorough search, through every single floorboard, furniture or parchment- there was nothing in Harry's room that had the words 'Peter Pettigrew', 'Memory Charm', 'brainwashed', 'James Potter' or a few more other keywords Voldemort had thought of. The Dark Lord's spell would work even though the words were carved on wood, or even if the words were invisible and had charms placed over it, so he was reasonably confident that Harry wouldn't work out the truth for himself again.

Meanwhile in the next Wing, Harry too slept little. All he could think of was the letter he found in his room the night before. Harry was rereading the letter again and again, feeling sick to his stomach. The way the letter was written, it sounded as though Harry himself actually cared for the boy named Damien; sounded as though Harry himself loved his family, and even had friends he cherished, named 'Ron', 'Hermione' and 'Ginny'. But Harry had learnt from various books before- victims under the Imperius Curse couldn't love, and couldn't be controlled to love. It looked as though James Potter had controlled Harry to write the letter word by word.

But the letter sounded so realistic! It didn't sound like a fake.

However, at the words 'fake' Harry boiled with rage again. Hadn't he learnt just what James Potter was capable of? Harry was underestimating the Potters; they were naturals at faking, lying and torturing.

Harry had also found another sheaf of parchment in his drawer, detailing the complex theories about the combination of blood and magic. The barrier he had invented for Dumbledore under the Imperius Curse. According to Snape, this was the barrier Dumbledore was going to use to protect Hogwarts. And according to the mysterious letter he found lying on the table, Dumbledore had been fed wrong information.

Besides the letter, Harry had also found three white feathers beneath his ninja daggers, which he had no idea how they had ended up there, or where did they come from. As far as Harry knew, there never had been birds in Riddle Manor before, since Voldemort killed his black raven ten years ago for allowing the Ministry to intercept the letters.

His mind a total jumble, Harry sat up on his bed and sighed deeply. His life felt incomplete without those one and a half year's worth of memories. He wished he could get them back; find out exactly what had happened, what he had done. If only...

A sudden idea struck him, as words from aforementioned letter flitted across his mind, and the desire of revenge sparked various devious plots and plans in his head. A crafty smile lifted the corner of his mouth.

He looked at the calendar. Twentieth of August. Eleven more days before Hogwarts reopened.

One more day, and he would be able to start putting his plan into action.

**A/N: Thanks for reading! Please review!**


	6. Chapter 6: A Message in the Sky

**The Second Chance**

DISCLAIMER: I own nothing of J. K. Rowling and Kurinoone's universe. This story is written with permission from Kurinoone, and is based on Kurinoone's fabulous, beyond awesome story- "The Darkness Within" (which was inspired by Project Dark Overlord's wonderful story- "The Shattered Prophesy").

* * *

**Chapter 6: A Message in the Sky**

With the first of September approaching rapidly, the Order members and Ministry officials no longer had time for themselves, let alone their family. James was worried that Damien might close up like Harry did during his absence, but Lily assured her husband that she'd take good care of their only son.

Damien did seem to be coping better; he started to hang out with the Weasleys more often like he did in the past when he was alone. Whenever Lily was off to Order meetings, Damien would join Ron in his room for games and talk. After obtaining permission from Dumbledore, Damien and Ron decided to tell Hermione about their decision to become Hogwarts' Secret Keepers. Ginny, however, was left out of the secret, and was clearly hurt when the rest huddled in Ron's room conversing in whispers, but she never intruded and tried not to show it.

It was another occasion as such on the morning of 24th of August- the Order members were having a meeting in the dining room; Fred and George, though already above age and legal to join the Order, still remained in their rooms creating new pranks and jokes to liven up the atmosphere in the evenings. Indeed, it was thanks to them that the Burrow overcame the shadow of Harry's death- their new fireworks display at night was both beautiful and entrancing. Although sometimes glittering words would spout out, bright against the night sky- "RONALD YAWNED 47 times today!"- nobody minded much; in fact, the twins' usually much unloved jokes were now more appreciated, as they brought about laughter.

The others had never especially forbidden Ginny to set foot in Ron's room and join in the conversation, but Ginny had no intention to enter unless she was invited. If they didn't want her presence, she would keep well out of their way. But it didn't make the searing feeling go away; that as much as she tried and assured herself for so long, she still wasn't part of their group. She would never belong.

But Harry had been different. He'd been kind. He paid her attention even though she was nothing compared to the others. She wasn't funny like Ron; wasn't constantly cheerful like Damien; not as intelligent nor pretty as Hermione, who would have been one of the most beautiful girls in Hogwarts if she dressed up properly and straightened her hair, like she did at the Christmas Ball that year. Ginny was just the youngest and stupidest of the entire lot of Weasleys, who cast her under a huge shadow, but Harry never cast her out, like how the others did. She kept her distance, knowing Harry valued privacy- for one of her unknown talents was tact- but now she regretted slightly for doing so, when there was no longer the opportunity for her to talk to him ever again.

For those precious few months, Ginny had been accepted as a part of the group, but it was only because of Harry, she reflected bitterly. She was, and would be, forever the outcast.

She sighed and walked around to the backyard, breathing in the fresh autumn morning air. Recently the days had been really hard to bear; her faint hope when Harry had left her a departing kiss snuffed out just as Harry's life had done. While growing up with six brothers at home had toughened her, and taught her to hold back her sadness, Ginny was surprised at how she had sobbed outright every night in her bed for a straight five days. As the days faded, only an occasional tear strayed, but she was quick to whisk it away.

She was therefore, very much surprised to find another unwanted Weasley leaning against one of the trees in their backyard.

"Percy?" she called out to her brother.

Percy's head snapped up at the mention of his name. On seeing Ginny, his expression immediately changed, and he hurriedly leapt up. Ginny looked at him in surprise as his scrawny figure started to hurry away in the opposite direction.

"Where are you going?" she asked after his retreating back, taken aback by his abruptness. He hadn't even greeted her.

Percy stopped. "I-I... my books," he finished lamely.

"Oh," said Ginny, disappointment evident in her voice. And here she thought she would have company! When would she accept the fact that she would forever be a lone ranger? She was unwanted, an outcast, even in her own family. "Can't you summon your book down here to read?"

Percy turned around and looked at her in surprise. "I thought you'd want to be left alone."

"No, I'm actually feeling very lonely right now," admitted Ginny, sighing as she watched the yellow flowers flutter from the trees and land lightly on her shoulder.

"I'll- I'll get Hermione down for you," he said, still sounding rather hurried.

"No, don't. Never mind," said Ginny, trying to keep the hurt from her voice. Percy seemed to fidget a bit before turning to leave again.

"Wait, can't you stay?" the youngest Weasley suddenly blurted, the loneliness in her overcoming her pride. She was partly appalled at how much she sounded like a baby sister, but suddenly she felt as though she would like to be the little girl whom Percy had patiently taught spells all those years back, before the twins had teased her and she abandoned studying with Percy altogether.

The words did the trick; Percy stopped as though struck, his expression comical. "You want me to stay?" he asked disbelievingly.

Ginny nodded enthusiastically, trying her best to look as sincere as she could.

Unfortunately, she had adapted the innocent expression before when she had assisted the twins at pranking Percy. On recognosing the expression, the elder Weasley's expression hardened and he backed away a step.

"Tell Fred and George sending you after me won't work anymore," he said curtly, quiet anger in his voice. "I know what I did is beyond forgiving, but I hope if I keep out of the way, you'd - you will leave me alone."

With that, he took quick and determined strides away from the his younger sister, fists clenched. The wind changed course and blew Percy's hair into a messy bird's nest, but he didn't seem to care as he left his sister standing desolately under the tree.

It hadn't always been like that.

Tears came to Ginny again, but this time for a completely different reason. It had been her fault entirely, really. When Ron, Fred and George had often abandoned her in her younger days, before she attended Hogwarts, Percy would take her, teaching her various boring lessons about potions and spells; but at least he was company. He made her feel wanted. But when the twins showed signs of including her into their pranking group, when Ron invited Ginny to his room too, when Hermione and Damien came round, she abandoned Percy altogether, seeking shelter and company in a more popular group.

Fred and George came up with what seemed like a good idea at that time; to use Ginny, whom Percy still trusted, as a bait, as a means to prank Percy. When Percy stood covered with amusing warts, and the others roared in laughter, she joined in. Neglecting to notice the trust she threw away in a moment's crave for attention. Failing to realize Percy's quiet hurt as he turned away and stomped into the house, everyone's ridiculing laughter ringing in his ears. And when Molly scolded, she stood up for Fred and George and Ron just to belong, and turned her back on the much unloved brother.

Percy was the same. He had betrayed his family's trust and let slip the Burrow's spells and barriers to the Ministry, just for attention. In a way, both he and Ginny had committed identical crimes; it was just that Percy's actions brought fatal results, while Ginny had only hurt one heart.

In a moment of understanding she'd realized why. That day, on her Second Year, she had asked Percy for help regarding her Potions essay, and he'd scoffed at her and walked away. Since then, when the others scoffed at Percy, she'd join in too. Just to get back at him, because he abandoned her that day. Conveniently forgetting she was the one who hurt him first.

With a soft chirrup, her owl Pigwidgeon suddenly came fluttering into sight, an envelope tied to its legs. Her Hogwarts letter. Emotionlessly, Ginny untied the envelope from her twittering owl and started to make her way back to the Burrow, Pigwidgeon twittering noisily beside her.

"Hey Ginny!" greeted Fred, grinning all over his face.

The twins trooped out of the front door together, wearing the familiar triumphant smile.

"What did you do now?" she asked tiredly.

"We've managed it!" crowed George, punching his fist in the air. "We've managed to make the special fireworks. They can stay up in the air, frozen and all beautiful for a record of ten seconds-"

"-in theory," finished Fred. "But our theories are very accurate," he added.

"So?" asked Ginny. She hadn't the heart for fireworks now.

"Seeing as you helped prank Percy a few times last week," started Fred, and guilt gnawed horribly at Ginny's heart.

"-we've decided to give you the honor of writing the Firework Words," continued George, as per usual.

"Firework Words?" echoed Ginny.

"You know, the glittering words you want to spell up in the sky..."

"For example- "RONALD WEASLEY YAWNED 47 TIMES TODAY!.."

"- yeah, that kind of thing."

Ginny felt her face break into a smile. "I know what I want to write," she said. "But you're going to be very surprised."

* * *

Dinner was another pleasant affair, what with the Potters and Weasleys over at the merry Burrow, to enjoy Molly's superb cooking. Ginny however couldn't wait for pudding to be over already. She hadn't had much appetite throughout the day. Damien was also displaying enthusiasm in the twins' various new products, and was fairly excited when the twins promised their 'Grand Opening' later that night after dinner, when the sky would be dark and cloudless.

Once or twice, Ginny would steal a look at Percy, but he seemed absorbed in his book, as he always was. Everyone was chattering to another partner, talking or laughing in a group- only the "Perfect Percy" was the outcast. Suddenly Ginny felt sorry for him, no longer for herself. At least she had Ron, Hermione, Damien, Fred and George to stand by her, even though sometimes she was excluded from their group.

"Attention please!" boomed Fred over the Sonorus Charm. He was currently standing on the table itself, throwing a huge looming shadow over what was left of the pudding, much to Molly's disapproval. "If everyone has eaten their fill..."

"We'd like to proudly present our newest products for all to see," continued George, leaping up to stand beside Fred, causing the table to tip alarmingly. Everyone's eyes were on them now; even Percy, who was looking all wary.

"...ladies and gentlemen, we proudly present..."

"Our ten- second lasting fireworks!"

The last sentence from George was drowned out by a huge crackling noise, as five fireworks shot up to the sky simultaneously, illuminating the dark night with brilliant patches of beautiful colors. The twins were true to their word; the fireworks were truly beyond awesome. Stars paled in comparison to the beautiful blend of glamour that lit up the darkness.

Then the brilliant words shot up into the sky, a short message that lasted for a brief ten seconds; yet it was never forgotten by both writer and who the message was meant for.

PERCY, I'M SORRY.

GINNY

Across the table, both their eyes met, and the familiar awkward smile, the kind when Ginny exclaimed in wonder at the spells he managed, wormed its way to Percy's face. Ginny felt the same expression breaking out on hers. It didn't matter if all the adults, Ron, Hermione, Damien, Fred and George didn't understand. Percy did; and for that night, it was all that mattered.

* * *

"You're still weak," reprimanded Voldemort as he stood above his son, his expression disapproving. "Your Occlumency skills would make even Naigini feel better."

Harry bit his lip in frustration. "You know perfectly well I'm a novice at this mind thingy," he complained. "You didn't need to burst into my brain with such dramatic full force. My head nearly split in half."

"Which would serve you right," said the Dark Lord severely. "It wouldn't have happened if you'd done it correctly."

Harry did not reply. A day's practise of Legilimency and Occlumency had took twenty times more out of him then his duel with Voldemort days ago. In truth, Harry was improving faster than Voldemort thought possible, and though Harry was far from being a master in the art, he had covered the basics fairly well. Not that Voldemort was going to admit it. His discouragement to Harry, he believed, brought about determination. In which case, Voldemort was right.

Harry had now climbed up to his feet.

"A blank mind," ordered Voldemort at once.

"I know," snapped Harry a tad testily. "I can't do it with you barking orders in my ear."

Voldemort folded his lips tightly but he did not say anything. He waited as Harry squeezed his eyes, pinched the bridge of his nose and inhaled deeply. At last, the Dark Prince announced he was ready.

"Good, on the count of three," said Voldemort. "ONE!"

But Voldemort was lying; at the count of one, he'd already barged with full force into Harry's mind. To his slight surprise, his son was able to raise the Occlumency shield just in time. Perhaps the Dark Lord had used the same trick too many times in a row. It trained Harry to be vigilant at all times.

Three minutes of intense struggle took place, before Harry at last used a part of his concentration to fire a jinx at his father, without allowing Voldemort to intrude on his mind. Voldemort dodged the spell, but his concentration was momentarily shattered. Harry took the advantage to fire more curses in his father's path, forcing the Dark Lord to weave and duck throughout the chamber.

"This is an Occlumency lesson, Harry, not a duel!" Voldemort snarled, bringing up his shield and firing curses at Harry at the same time.

"You've had your turn at bullying me just now," replied Harry, grinning. "Now it's my turn."

Voldemort nearly spluttered in disbelief. "Bullying? I wasted twelve hours of the day training you and this is what I get in return?"

Harry's response was to laugh.

"No, Harry," said Voldemort, this time with the stern tone that his son had learnt before not to disobey. "You have not learnt the art of Legilimens and Occlumens properly. Focus on one task at a time."

With a reluctant sigh, Harry made a face and dropped his shield. He turned to face his father.

"Now what?" he said moodily.

Voldemort smirked evily. "Now it's my turn. _Expelliarmus!"_

_xXx_

Three hours later, a very tired but grinning Harry was still brandishing his father's wand about, firing random jinxes and hexes just to annoy Voldemort.

"That's not very gallant of you, stealing another's wand!" hissed Voldemort, narrowly avoiding another blast of jinxes.

"I'm learning to be a Slytherin from you!" replied Harry cheekily, as he charmed Voldemort's chandelier to look a tad pink and fluffy. Voldemort looked at the pink and frilly lace decorating his prided chandelier and banished the glamour irritably.

"Give me back my wand now!" he ordered, trying to summon back his wand. But it wasn't a very safe act, as Harry kept his random blasts of pathetic jinxes flying everywhere. Voldemort might accidentally summon a jinx to hit himself instead.

"I don't want to! Your wand feels more powerful than mine," grinned Harry.

Voldemort was surprised, and he lost his irritated expression, much to his son's disappointment. "Really?" he asked.

Harry decided to stop fooling around, as Voldemort called it. "It responds pretty accurately to me, just as good as my own wand actually. But considering the wand belongs to you..."

"Phoenix feather," mused Voldemort, taking the offered wand back. "Of course. It fits you as well."

"Does that mean I get to keep your wand?"

Voldemort's annoyance returned. "What do you think?"

Harry laughed. "Goodnight father," he said, leaving for his room. The echo of his laughter reverberated in the chamber where Voldemort stood for a long time, watching the back of his son, an unreadable expression on his face. It was until Harry had disappeared into his room when Voldemort finally moved to leave the chamber.

* * *

Clearly, no one understood what Ginny's message to Percy was all about, and all seemed a tad surprised to see them both descending the stairs together for breakfast. Ginny had suddenly transformed into the ten year old girl that chattered a lot all over again, instead of the fifteen year old that poked fun at her brothers to gain laughter and approval. She talked to Percy like she'd not talked to others before, and Percy felt a sense of pride welling in him when others' questioning gazes rested on them.

What could there possibly be to talk so much about?

"- and I passed the exam with an Outstanding, did I ever get around to tell you that?" continued Ginny.

"No," Percy replied truthfully. "At that time, we kind of had a falling out. You didn't talk much to me then."

"Oh," Ginny said, falling silent temporarily. "Well, in the end I was rated top of the class... for the first and last time of my life, I'm afraid."

Percy laughed a bit at that. "Really, Transfiguration isn't hard, you just need to learn properly how to do it," he began.

Ron rolled his eyes. "And there goes perfect Percy. If it isn't cauldron bottoms, it's a recount of his modest history."

"Shut up Ron," said Ginny defensively. "Percy was talking to me, not to you."

Three heads swivelled around to watch the drama. Fred, George, Ron and Hermione stared at them for some time, before Percy made to retort back, thought better of it, and closed his mouth.

"When were you such close buddies with the traitor here?" demanded Ron, his eyes flickering from Ginny to Percy with distaste.

"Since Ginny touched Percy's little heart with a firecracker and a tear," answered George in a dramatic girlish voice. Fred pretended to wipe a tear from the corner of his eye, and both twins sniffed audibly.

"Traitor?" spluttered Percy, losing his self- control already. "Do you think I let slip the enchantments purposely?"

"What?" sneered Ron. "Did you tell the Ministry accidentally? Under the Imperius Curse, were you?"

Arthur looked disapprovingly at his children. "Cut it out right now," he ordered severely. "War is raging outside. Do you really need to fight over petty things like these right now? What's done is done."

Usually, Mr. Weasley never snapped; Molly was the one for that. It was a good thing Mrs. Weasley was in the kitchen and didn't hear the quarrel. The Order had been extremely busy these days, and everyone was tense with the reopening of Hogwarts. At last, Ron stopped glowering at Percy, opting to mutter darkly under his breath as he reached for another toast. But Percy wasn't finished.

"I'd turn back the clock if I could!" he said furiously. "I've regretted doing it ever since. I know I was a big idiot, and I am really sorry. But it doesn't mean that you can just treat me like some kind of-"

"Didn't you hear Dad? Cut it out already!" snapped Ron.

Percy threw one last furtive glance at his brothers before stomping away, taking refuge in his room.

XxXx

"I guess that's just the problem of having too many brothers," said Ron to Damien, after he had finished complaining. "It's awful and quarrels burst out every single day."

Damien's face was sober. "It'll be even more awful when you don't even have a brother to quarrel with," he said quietly.

Ron's heart clenched as he saw the misery written on his friend's face. "Sorry," he muttered. "Didn't think."

"S'okay," reassured Damien. "You wouldn't be Ron Weasley if you did."

The pair was seated in one of the dingy rooms of Number Twelve Grimmauld Place, waiting for Dumbledore's summons. The Secret Keeper spell was to be cast today. It was a dull task to sit in a dusty room and do nothing but wait, however, both Ron and Damien felt too nervous, giddy and excited to be bored.

"Do you think it'll hurt?" asked Ron presently. "When the charm falls upon us?"

Damien frowned. "I don't think so. The spell should be quite safe."

Ron's eyes widened. "You know about the spell? Hermione's been looking through tons of books regarding the special barriers Dumbledore is going to use, and she couldn't find any spell that could combine blood and magic."

The youngest Potter bit his lip. He hadn't told anyone about the letter Harry had left him. From it, Damien deduced that the spell was Harry's own creation.

"I- I just guessed," Damien said instead. "Professor Dumbledore wouldn't use anything unsafe."

Ron nodded. "Makes sense."

Five minutes later, steady footsteps approached the door. Ron and Damien shared a look before Professor McGonagall opened the door, followed by an anxious Molly. Lily appeared soon after, but James was nowhere to be seen.

"Come on, it's time," said McGonagall. "Professor Dumbledore is waiting. But before that, I'd like to ask you one more question. By agreeing to take the job of a Secret Keeper, you have obligingly placed your lives in slightly more danger than the other students, for it will be you whom the Dark Lord will seek to destroy. Once you accept this responsibility, you can not shrug it off anymore. So if any of you have second doubts, now is your last chance to back out."

Ron and Damien shared a look before replying, identical daring grins on their faces.

"We're Gryffindors, Professor," they said, their answers clear.

A hint of a smile crossed the Professor's features. "Good. Follow me."

**A/N: Thanks for reading! Please drop me a thought!**


	7. Chapter 7: Back to Hogwarts

**The Second Chance**

DISCLAIMER: I own nothing of J. K. Rowling and Kurinoone's universe. This story is written with permission from Kurinoone, and is based on Kurinoone's fabulous, beyond awesome story- "The Darkness Within" (which was inspired by Project Dark Overlord's wonderful story- "The Shattered Prophesy").

* * *

**Chapter 7: Back To Hogwarts**

After the spell was cast, Ron and Damien were allowed to stay for the rest of the Order meeting. It turned out that James was too busy with the Ministry and Order to be the Professor of Defense Against Dark Arts at Hogwarts anymore; so was Lily. Oddly, Damien felt disappointed that his parents weren't going to Hogwarts with him anymore. When they were teaching at school, the youngest Potter had complained about being restricted because his parents were professors. Yet as the realisation that James and Lily would never frown at him from behind the school desk brought about a sense of loss.

"But who will teach us Potions and Defense?" asked Ron before Damien could put it into question himself.

The rest of the Order members looked grim; but Sirius put on a knowing smile. "Ah, we can't indulge you in these secrets before the time is right, can we?"

Damien and Ron scowled simultaneously.

"Professor Dumbledore will make the announcement during the Great Feast on your first day at Hogwarts," said Professor McGonagall.

"Yeah you have no reason to know beforehand," added Sirius annoyingly.

"Is it someone you know?" said Damien suspiciously, scrutinising his uncle severely. "Is it Uncle Remus? Tonks? Or..."

Damien stopped short. Ron seemed to come to the same conclusion as the youngest Potter did; both swivelled around to face Sirius, their faces barely containing excitement.

"Blimey! Is it you, Sirius?" asked Ron, a suggested laugh in his voice. "You, our Defense Professor?"

Damien was grinning, as though they had confirmed the point. James, however, butted in, looking disapproving.

"Look what you've done Padfoot," he reprimanded his best friend. "Nice misunderstanding you've created here."

Sirius sighed. "I thought it'd be annoying. No, Damy and Ronnie, as much as you'd love to have me, I'm sorry- your new Professor is not me, and is not someone I know well either."

Ron's scowl deepened at the name 'Ronnie'.

Dumbledore steepled his fingers before he spoke. "Since you both are already here, I shall briefly explain the security regarding your journey towards Hogwarts," he began. "This year, Portkeys will be delivered along with your Hogwarts letters. All students or parents are no longer required to arrive at King's Cross station. All Hogwarts Portkeys will be in the form of quills with red and blue tips. Be sure not to mix them up with the others," he added, his twinkling gaze resting on Ron and Damien. "The Portkey will be activated for a duration of three minutes. In your Hogwarts letter, we have detailed the exact time you must touch your Portkey in order to be transported directly to Platform Nine and a Three Quarters; within the barrier, of course."

Ron stifled a yawn and Damin nudged him.

"Of course, this year, you may bring your pets and owls if you wish, but sending letters, be it to guardians, friends or parents are strictly prohibited within the school walls. Exceptions however can be made for unique circumstances. Also, the letter will be intercepted before sent for security reasons."

This time, Ron sat up, paying the professor extra attention. "Professor," he started, raising his hand. "If letters can't be sent from the students in the school, does that mean letters from our parents won't reach us either?"

Dumbledore smiled, the twinkle in his eyes returning. "Yes," he replied. "I'm afraid you won't be able to contact your parents throughout the year until the next term. Any means of communication, such as the two-way-mirror are not allowed in the grounds of Hogwarts."

"Oh," said Ron, but Damien could tell hints of a smile in his friends' voice.

"As the rest of the Order members know," Dumbledore continued. "I have received many requests for Hogwarts to accept quite a few transfer students, most of them from abroad. Cornelius Fudge, the Minister of Magic, asked me to accept them into Hogwarts to establish an unofficial international relationship with France, America and other countries. After reviewing the case with the public, my final judgement is to agree."

By then, Ron and Damien were barely listening; tired and sleepy they were for staying up so late at night. Lily caught their yawns, so did Professor Dumbledore, who smiled slightly at the sight.

Five minutes later, the meeting was adjourned. As they got up to leave their seats, to Ron's great surprise, Professor Dumbledore and Professor McGonagall came to congratulate him. Feeling bewildered, Ron did not take their proferred hands.

Dumbledore laughed lightly at Ron's comical expression.

"I take it you have not read your Hogwarts letter?" he asked, bemused.

"Er... no sir," replied Ron truthfully, still eyeing the Professor's hand uncertainly.

Dumbledore merely nodded at him, then left with a nod and a smile, acknowledging Damien.

"What was that all about?" whispered Damien to Ron.

"No idea," replied Ron, his eyes fixed on the Dumbledore in a slightly suspicious manner.

"Not that," said the younger of the pair. "I meant your question to Professor Dumbledore just now. Why did you seem so... pleased that we won't be receiving letters from our parents this year?"

"Oh, that," grinned Ron. Making sure his mother had her back turned, he whispered specifically to his friend, "Imagine, all the pranks we can feel free to play at school! Dumbledore can't complain to Mum, nor can Mum send me Howlers with the postal service suspended!"

Damien laughed as he surveyed his excited friend. "You're getting as bad as the Marauders."

* * *

Hermione greeted them anxiously once they arrived at the Burrow. Damien had barely greeted Ginny a 'hello' before the bushy haired girl had pushed both Ron and Damien into the kitchen.

"It's done, isn't it?" she whispered, looking worried.

"Yes, it is, so you can stop worrying now, Hermione," Ron said, rolling his eyes.

"That's all the more reason to worry!" hissed Hermione back at Ron, trying to keep her voice down. "I've searched through entire stacks of books, but according to Barriers of the early 20th century, it is simply not possible to combine blood and magic in a barrier. In 1979, around twenty powerful wizards had tried and failed. Some were even killed in the process. Apparently they did not have sufficient power to supress the negative force created when both spells - "

"Hold it, hold it, hold it!" moaned Ron. "What was that again?"

Damien rolled his eyes. "You needn't be that dramatic. It wasn't that complicated yet."

"Oh really! Let her continue and it will, trust me," shot back Ron. Hermione scowled.

However, Molly appeared at the kitchen doorway and put an end to the conversation. Damien said a hurried goodbye to the rest of the Weasleys before following his parents back to Potter Manor, stifling a yawn as he did so. After all, it was already past midnight. Normally, Lily would have forbidden him to sleep this late.

Ron watched as the flames turned a flaming red again before turning around. Ginny was standing behind him. When both of their eyes met, his youngest sister's face promptly turned into a barely suppressed scowl before she turned on her heels and stalked away. Ron's temper flared.

"What's it with you now?" he said loudly, clearly irritated.

Ginny turned back to face him. "Now, that's the question I'd like to ask you instead," she said heatedly. "What's it with you and Percy? He already said sorry. Can't you be at least, civil?" She spat the last word at him.

Ron stared at his youngest sister, anger and surprise chasing across his features. "You and Percy are the ones that are weird," he answered back. "Days ago you were fine. Then all of a sudden you go apologise to Percy, of all people! And the next morning onwards, both of you are the world's best buddies! You are... just, beyond alarming."

"Alarming?" flared up Ginny. "Alarming, am I? Now, talking to my own brother is alarming is it? I wonder why I'm still talking to you!"

She stormed up the stairs. Ron, however was the one with longer legs, and he could ascend the steps three at a time with lightning speed. "Halt there!" he said, barring the way to Ginny's room. "You haven't answered my question. What happened between you and Percy? Did he place a curse, spell, jinx on you or what? Does he want something from you? To help him in the Ministry or something? What made you this different since yesterday night?"

"What's it to you!" the youngest Weasley shouted back at him. "You never cared about what I or Percy ever did, so why start now? You have your own group of best friends don't you, with Hermione and Damien and you whispering away in another room! Well, I don't care what you do either, so you stick your nose back where it belongs!"

Ginny pushed her brother away roughly, entered her room and slammed the door behind her.

* * *

Ron felt as though he had found the answer to everything through his sister's behaviour.

"It's simple jealousy," he confided to Damien the next day, when the youngest Potter dropped by for his usual visit. "Ginny's sour because we didn't include her in the secret. She envies the fact that I have a group of friends while she does not. That's why she's gone and stuck with loser Percy, just out of spite, to annoy me. And Percy's all alone and sorry, so naturally when Ginny came with her fireworks and apologies, he- "

Hermione was glaring daggers at Ron.

"What now?" said the red- headed boy exasperatedly.

"You really can't read emotions, can you? You're just plain thick when it comes to this area," she started furiously. "You're the one that is spiteful! All Percy made was a mistake, albeit one that brought fatal results-"

Here, Ron snorted.

"But," the bushy- haired girl pressed on. "But he never meant it. Everyone makes mistakes, Ron. It's not fair to blame Percy just because the results of what he did was more severe than others'. It's high time you forgave him, before you need to beg for forgiveness instead. What Ginny did was simply what a sibling should, unlike you!"

Damien felt caught between both of his friends, but decided it was wiser to simply say nothing.

"Beg for forgiveness! I don't think so! If the Wizarding World found out, they'd think as I do. Just for attention, _attention!" _Ron spat. "He sold out his friends and family!"

"He never meant- it was just a mistake, Ron," started Hermione, her voice quieter.

"Mistake! Just a simple mistake, was it? Someone died, Hermione! And just in case you never noticed, that someone happens to be one of our best friends!"

"And just in case you haven't noticed, that someone's brother is sitting right next to you," said Damien dryly.

Ron quietened at once, looking abashed. Damien took the silence as an opportunity to speak. He exhaled slowly, choosing his words carefully.

"I don't blame your brother Percy, Ron," he started. "And you shouldn't, either. Do you remember that day, when Harry tried to kill my dad, and framed Uncle Siri for the crime? How do you think I felt? Betrayed? It was way worse than that. But still I never blamed Harry for it."

"Easy for you to say- that's because Harry's your brother," argued Ron.

"And Percy isn't _your_ brother?" shot back Damien. "Or is it you just don't see him as your brother anymore?"

"He doesn't see me as his brother either!" returned Ron. "All he does is boast about his being the stupid Head Boy, although that was centuries ago, being perfectly spiteful, annoying and boring."

"And I wonder why," started Hermione, starting flare up again. "Let's see, maybe because you covered him with warts, gave him a fox's tail, made his eyebrows- "

"Come off it Hermione, those were just pranks- for fun!" Ron groaned. "Isn't this ever going to end?"

"Maybe, they were supposed to be harmless pranks, but you hurt Percy's pride," Hermione explained, as though to a student.

"With a pride like his it isn't hard to. Come on, Fred and George do it more frequently than I do. Go pick on them why don't you?" Ron sounded extremely annoyed.

"They do it out of fun; it's a joke to them," Hermione continued. "You do it out of spite."

"And how would you of all people know that?" Ron said through gritted teeth.

"Your actions," she said simply.

The red- headed Weasley exclaimed in frustration and seized the nearest object to squeeze, in an attempt to relieve his annoyance at both his friends. What was the point of the entire lecture? Percy had caused Harry to die, and they let it go just like that?

Suddenly, there was a searing pain in his right thumb. Withdrawing it quickly, he noticed that a small pool of crimson blood was oozing from a new wound on his flesh.

"Ouch! That really hurts," Ron yelped. "What was that?"

"Your Hogwarts letter," replied Damien, taking the stained envelope. "Looks like you pricked yourself with the needle of the badge inside it."

Ron was bewildered. "Badge? What badge?"

Damien grinned, thumping his friend on the back, trying to restrain his laughter. "Congratulations, Ron. _You're_ the Head Boy now."

* * *

28th August 1997 dawned bright and clear.

Just as the Potters and the Weasleys were shopping at Diagon Alley for books, quills and new robes, Voldemort was teaching his son the art of Legilimency. Both he and Harry had been practising both the mind shield and mind screen constantly, in preparation for Harry's eventual departure to Hogwarts.

"I still don't like the idea of placing you in Hogwarts," said Voldemort over lunch break. "As much as I hate to admit it, Dumbledore is a strong Legilimens Master. Your Occlumency skills can barely shield your mind against me."

Harry did not reply. He had not mentioned the letter, nor the singed parchments that contained detailed descriptions of the Blood-Magic Wards found in his room to his father. If he had, his father would surely stop him from going to Hogwarts. The main reason Harry wanted to enter Hogwarts was no longer only for revenge, but also to know the absolute truth. He needed to know what exactly he had done in the past year, when he had been Imperiused. Since Voldemort wouldn't tell him, he'd just have to find out for himself. It had taken two weeks for Harry to convince Voldemort. Only yesterday had the Dark Lord agreed to let him enter Hogwarts and carry out the mission himself.

His father started talking again.

"Remember, when you enter Hogwarts that night, focus on the task at hand. Once you break the wards, give the signal and we'll attack the very next night. Revenge only comes to those who wait for the right opportunity. Understood?" Voldemort's tone was stern and serious.

"Yes father," replied Harry absently. To avoid looking his father in the eye, he lifted his goblet to drink.

"This year, two of our spies have been elected as Professors in Hogwarts," continued the Dark Lord. "Severus Snape is teaching Potions; Rodolphus Lestrange is teaching Defense Against Dark Arts. It is my hope that the school will fall before the end of this year. We'll take revenge against all of them within the year of 1997."

Harry stopped. "Rodolphus... Lestrange?" he echoed, his emerald eyes suddenly snapping alert.

"Yes. Bellatrix's husband," replied Voldemort, scrutinising his son for a reaction.

Harry allowed his gaze to drop to the table, but he said nothing. He stood up and drained his goblet, his expressionless mask falling back into place. Voldemort sighed. His son was learning from him.

"Lessons begin at two thirty," Voldemort reminded Harry. "Lateness is not tolerated."

Harry nodded curtly. "I know," he replied, turning on his heels and walking out of the hall, his cloak billowing behind him. He wanted time to be alone.

Only one single mention of Bellatrix stabbed him with another knife of guilt. He never failed his father, nor Bella, ever. Of all the missions! He'd failed to bring Bellatrix back safely. He'd left her there to die.

However, whatever alone time Harry might have been looking forward to vanished at the sight of Lucius' figure approaching. Harry stopped short and turned to walk towards the other end of the corridor. He could tell by Malfoy's face that Lucius had something to say. But he hadn't the heart to hear it. He just wanted to be alone; even for a few precious minutes would do.

"Prince!" called Lucius breathlessly. "Prince, I have something to tell you."

"Later," Harry replied, his tone cold.

Lucius recogonised the mood. "Just one minute," he persisted, following behind.

Harry stopped. "Fine," he said, trying not to let his frustration show. "What now?"

"I'm not sure if you have heard, but Rodolphus Lestrange... he has been appointed as Hogwarts' Defense Professor," said Lucius, reducing his voice to barely a whisper. "He broke out of Azkaban recently and has rejoined the Dark Lord in the Inner Circle."

Harry was surprised. "Wasn't father the one who broke Lestrange out of the prison?"

Lucius hesitated a bit, barely hidden fear chasing across his features before he answered shortly, "No. He broke out himself this year."

Harry nodded. According to his fahter, there had been a massive breakout from Azkaban since the Death- Eaters had taken over the Ministry. "So... how does Rodolphus Lestrange concern me?" Harry asked, trying to keep his tone light.

"H-He seems to think that... well, you caused the death of Bellatrix," Lucius' voice faltered.

Harry's eyes darkened. "I did," the Dark Prince said, cold anger in his voice. "I as good as killed her."

Lucius seemed to struggle on the verge of speech. "I'm not sure if the Dark Lord will approve of me saying this to you... but my personal advice to you is to be careful around Lestrange," Malfoy said, not looking at Harry. "He... I suspect that he is plotting something unknowest to the Dark Lord, to gain revenge against you. As long as the Dark Lord warns him, surely Lestrange won't dare to try anything... but I-..." Lucius stopped, and this time grey eyes met green. "Just be careful," he told the younger of the pair.

The Dark Prince's eyes had returned to their original emerald as he took in the elder man before him. Harry allowed himself a small smile in Lucius' direction to reassure the man.

"Don't worry. I will."

* * *

The first of September took its time to arrive. Books and robes were bought; school trunks filled; pets secured safely in the cages, yet the much awaited day did not come. The Order members triple- checked the security every day a week before the first, and undercover Ministry Aurors patrolled King's Cross station from time to time to ensure the barrier to Platform Nine and a Three Quarters remained sealed until the Hogwarts Express had departed. As this year, the students would be transported by Portkey directly onto aforementioned platform, the barrier would not be lifted.

But when the first day in which Hogwarts would reopen did arrive, Damien found himself horribly unprepared.

"Mum, did you see my socks? The drawers are empty!" he yelled down the stairs, his voice panicky. After all, the Portkey would be activated any time now, and he still had two important things to do.

James came to his son's rescue. "_Accio _socks!" he cried, sounding much like a hero.

"Thanks, dad!" Damien shouted a hurried response towards his father as James' magic did its work.

Various pairs of socks zoomed out of James' cupboard into his son's trunk. James' eyes widened. "Oh no! I never meant- Damien, hey, come back!"

But his youngest son never heard him. Damien was already racing downstairs to find Hedwig, his heavy footsteps thundering across the floor. Lily sighed in frustration. "I told you to get ready a week ago!" she reprimanded as Damien ran past her.

Damien held the red and blue quill, which was the Hogwarts Portkey, tight in his palm even as he raced down to Harry's training grounds, dragging his trunk and Hedwig's cage with him. Just in case he did not manage to get Hedwig in time, at least he wouldn't miss the Portkey altogether. Meanwhile, James was still trying to follow his youngest son to retrieve his socks. In one single hour, pandemonium was wrecked in Potter Manor.

At last, Damien reached the snowy owl. Hedwig glided gracefully across the room and perched lightly on Damien's offered arm. She was just in time too. The Portkey began to glow a bright blue, sending excitement travelling through every pore of Damien's body. At last, he was going back to Hogwarts! How long he had awaited the day.

"Bye dad!" the youngest Potter yelled at the top of his lungs.

James just managed to catch sight of Damien and wheeze "My socks!" before his son vanished altogether in a pool of blue light.

xXx

Damien arrived spinning like a top on Platform Nine and a Three Quarters. Immediately, an arm steadied him to prevent him from crashing to the ground altogether. Gratefully, he looked up and found himself meeting the gaze of Professor McGonagall. Immediately, Damien jumped. His foot, however, had the misfortune to get caught on his trunk and he ended up sprawled over the platform all the same.

The Professor looked cross. "There was no need to overact so, Potter," she said. "Hurry up and heave your trunk and yourself into the train. It's getting started." With a last withering look, she swept away.

Damien grimaced as he picked himself off the floor. He had landed directly on Hedwig's cage! No wonder his back felt so badly bruised he didn't think he could lie down for the moment. The snowy white owl was also, squawking madly in the cage, trying to spread out her wings but failing miserably to do so in the cramped space.

"Sorry," Damien apologised to the bird.

There was a chortle slightly to his right. Pursing his lips, the youngest Potter looked up and found an unfamiliar looking boy staring down at him. The boy was smirking slightly, and somehow this irritated Damien extremely.

"What do you want?" snapped Damien. It wasn't until it had left his mouth when he registered what he was saying. Part of Damien was apalled by his own behaviour. Normally, he wasn't this rude to strangers. But what the boy said cancelled out any regrets Damien had for being impertinent.

"Can you only commuinicate civilly with someone who has the same mental level as you?" the boy said scathingly.

"What's it to you!" snapped back Damien, straightening, but sadly his height barely reached the unknown boy's shoulder.

The boy merely shrugged, smirked again, and walked away. Damien scowled after him as he bent down to retrieve Hedwig's cage. No sooner than when the youngest Potter had heaved himself and his heavy trunk up the steps when he heard a familiar voice hailing him from behind.

"Damy!"

Damien turned around and caught sight of Hermione, Ron and Ginny running towards him, identical grins on their faces.

"When did you arrive?" Ron started talking at once. "I nearly missed my Portkey- Pig wouldn't come when we whistled."

A familiar tiny owl zoomed about in an owl's cage slung carelessly over Ginny's shoulder. The youngest Weasley offered Damien a smile in greeting. "Did you get a new owl?" she asked, indicating Hedwig, who was staring at Pigwidgeon through the bars of the cage with a disapproving expression.

Damien looked at Hedwig, unsure of what to say. "Kind of," he said vaguely.

"Cool!" Ron didn't seem to notice his friend's uncomfort. "Come on, let's go find an empty compartment and introduce Pig to your snowy. What's your snowy's name anyway?"

"Hedwig," replied Damien, hefting his trunk behind him as they peered into every compartment, hoping to find one empty.

At last, they managed to find one near the end of the train. By then, the train whistle was blaring, and the Hogwarts Express was preparing to leave Platform Nine and a Three Quarters behind. Hurriedly, they helped each other heave the trunks onto the racks and slid into their seats as the floor began to vibrate. But no sooner than five minutes after the train departed, Hermione tapped Ron on the shoulder and gave him a meaningful look. The red- headed boy immediately groaned out loud.

"No, not now, Hermione!" he moaned.

"Immediately," ordered the bushy haired girl sternly. "Come on, we'll be late if we don't hurry."

"Where are you going?" asked Ginny, looking at both of them in surprise.

"Don't tell me," said Damien teasingly. "They're off to maintain the discipline of the students, eh? Imagine Ron with his shiny, gleaming Head Boy badge! Oh pardon my mistake, we don't need to imagine the scene after all."

Ron flushed slightly as he followed Hermione out of their compartment.

"I didn't ask for this you know!" Ron said as a departing word.

Damien chuckled as the compartment door slid shut. "He still seems rather embarassed but proud of being the Head Boy," the youngest Potter observed. "Anyway, it's just what Ron needs. A little confidence booster to stop him from moaning how useless he is."

"Oh, stop talking like an old man," said Ginny, lying down stretched across three seats comfortably. "You're only fourteen for goodness' sake."

They fell into companionable silence for a while, before Damien broke it. "Is Ron okay with Percy already?" he asked.

"No," replied Ginny, not looking at her friend. "They're still not talking to each other. But at least they're not fighting anymore. Fred and George seems okay with it now, though- they keep up with their pranking and joke around like usual around Percy. Bill and Charlie don't acknowledge Percy much." Her tone sounded sad.

"It must be nice to have so many siblings," joked Damien. "Sometimes I wish I could have a younger brother since I've already lost the elder."

The rest of the day was spent eating sweets, lazing around, talking, sleeping and an attempt at reading. It was only around two o' clock did Ron and Hermione reappear, both looking tired and disheveled. Damien sympathetically tossed them pumpkin juices each, which they accepted gratefully. Three pumpkin pastries were hurriedly devoured before Ron gave his story.

"Me and Hermione went to the Prefect's Carriage to meet Professor McGonagall, as instructed in our Hogwarts letters," he began. "When we reached there, all the Prefects, new and old, were waiting for us already. And guess what! We were supposed to give an impromptu speech!" Ron moaned the last sentence loudly.

"I take it your speech didn't go very well?" laughed Damien. Ginny grinned at her brother's expression.

"Surely Hermione did better?" she said, purposely.

"Of course she did!" wailed Ron. "I made a mess of everything. I said 'Good afternoon' instead of 'Good morning', and knocked over Professor McGonagall's hat when I bowed, and... it was truly a disaster. My reputation is tarnished forever."

"When did you have a reputation?" asked Ginny cheekily.

"A reputation for eating, more like," teased Hermione, smiling.

Ron ignored this comment. "Did you know Draco Malfoy is here too?" he said in a hushed whisper, his eyes resting specifically on Damien. "I saw him when we patrolled the corridors. It's a bit of daredevil of him, isn't he, to come to Hogwarts like this? He should be in hiding!"

"I don't see why he shouldn't return to school- Hogwarts is the safest place on Earth," said Hermione, looking disapproving. "Just because you don't like him, Ron..."

"Was Draco Malfoy alone?" Damien cut across the banter. Somehow, he didn't think Malfoy's old cronies Crabbe and Goyle would be allowed to mix with Draco, who had proved himself as a traitor to Lord Voldemort in front of all the wizards in Hogsmeade. Or perhaps Crabbe and Goyle hadn't returned to Hogwarts at all.

"Not quite alone," replied Ron. "There were a couple of noisy Hufflepuffs in his compartment, but he just cast a Silencing Charm around him and stared off into space like a zombie."

"Oh. Crabbe and Goyle?"

"They're just in the next compartment," Ron tilted his head towards the right. "Together with the rest of the slimy gits- Mulciber, Rosier, Nott... you get the idea. They were bad- mouthing Malfoy when I passed by."

"You mean, when you eavesdropped," corrected Hermione.

"Quite true," admitted Ron.

"Did you see a new boy around here?" asked Damien, recalling the unfamiliar face that smirked at him when he had apologised to Hedwig. "He was blonde, had blue eyes, fairly tall..."

"New boy? A transfer student, you mean?" said Ron. "There're plenty. According to Professor McGonagall, twenty transfer students just enrolled in Hogwarts and were accepted."

"Twenty? That many?" Damien said in disbelief. "Hogwarts is going to be real crowded. Have the transfer students taken their exams yet?"

"No, Damy, don't get Hermione started," warned Ron, feigning a scared look in Hermione's direction, but it was too late.

"I wonder what we're going to do about our studies," Hermione said worriedly. "We haven't even completed our NEWTs last year when Hogwarts closed down! Ginny hasn't sat for her OWLs, either. How can we cope? I wonder what they have planned for our curriculum?"

This drew three collective moans.

"Typical Hermione," muttered Ron, earning a smack in return.

* * *

Five hours passed slowly. During most of the time Damien spent with his friends, he was able to forget his elder brother temporarily, but the feeling never lasted longer than three minutes before the memory of Harry would hit him with sadness, every time like the first. It hadn't escaped anyone's notice that the youngest Potter seemed to laugh, joke and talk less than usual. If it were last year, he'd have rattled on and on about Quidditch together with Ron, and nothing could have stopped them. But this year, as the train chugged on its journey, Ron was the one that did most of the talking.

As the scenery changed into a dark mass of wilderness that flashed by, Ron and Hermione left to patrol the corridors again. Damien reached for his trunk for his Hogwarts robes, before remembering he was not wearing Muggle attire. They had Portkeyed straight onto the Platform, so putting on the Muggle act was not called for this year.

As the train slowly screeched to a halt, Damien and Ginny heaved down their trunks and made their way down the train together. Once the youngest Potter stepped out their compartment, however, he bumped into someone. Damien looked up and immediately recogonised the infrutiating blue eyes, which were eyeing him with mock amusement. From the way Mulciber, Crabbe and Goyle were standing and talking with him, Damien gathered that the unknown rude boy he met just now had been mixing with the Slytherins just now, on the way to Hogwarts.

Damien shifted his gaze and pushed past the Slytherins, ignoring their jeers and calls.

"Pity that new student got himself stuck with slime," remarked Ginny as they descended together.

Damien did not reply. He never had a good impression of the boy, anyway, so he didn't feel as though it was much of a pity.

Professor McGonagall quickly gathered the mass of students around. After ensuring that none of them were missing, the students were escorted by the Professors towards the school. Quite a number of Ministry Aurors and Order members had appeared out of nowhere as they walked the distance towards their school. However, Damien was disappointed- for true to what his parents had told him, both James and Lily were not assigned to guard Hogwarts, and therefore wouldn't be seeing him until next year. This thought brought about a sense of homesickness, and the previous elation of returning to Hogwarts dimmed somewhat.

After dragging his heavy trunk for approximately seven minutes, Damien started to wonder if they would ever reach their destination. Perhaps Professor McGonagall would make them swim through the lake to Hogwarts as a safety precaution! As water doused magic, it would be a pretty effecient way to get rid of any glamour the Slytherins were wearing, just in case some of them were Death- Eaters in disguise. Before he managed to say anything however, his worries were put to rest.

"Halt!" cried a voice sharply.

Ginny jumped; so did most of the students. Professor McGonagall raised her hands for silence, wand held aloft as she addressed the crowd.

"This is where the barriers are cast," she said, her thin voice carrying over the silence easily. "Those who enter the barriers before registering may suffer from severe shock, if not death itself, as the magic used by Professor Dumbledore to cast the spell is extremely advanced and dangerous. However, once you have registered your blood under the protection of this barrier, you are only allowed entry into Hogwarts. Any student in Hogwarts that tries to exit the school grounds without permission will also suffer from severe shock or an unfortunate death. Therefore, I warn you not to go near the barriers at all, if your life is of value to you." With these words, Professor McGonagall directed a jet of red light at the barrier. The invisible barrier immediately glowed a fiery shade of red.

"I will start with the First Years. Now, when I call out your name, step forwards so I can register your blood under the protection of the barrier," she said. "Alson, Clarrisa!"

Professor Sinistra was in charge of the Second Years, Professor Snape for the Third- Years, Professor Grubby- Plank for the Fourth Years, Professor Sprout for the Fifth- Years, Professor Flitwick for the Sixth- Years and Professor Dumbledore himself was in charge of the Seventh- Years. As the crowd of students shuffled into their respective groups according to their age, Damien noticed that the rude transfer student he met was the same age as Ron and Hermione. Ginny then waved Damien goodbye and slipped off to where the Fifth Years were standing.

It took a long time for Professor Grubby- Plank to reach 'Potter, Damien!', so when she did, the youngest Potter's eyes were already glazed over, deep in his day- dream. It was only when someone nudged him from behind did Damien stumble forwards.

"Hold out your hand," ordered the Professor.

Damien did as he was told. Professor Grubby- Plank directed her wand at Damien and drew a few drops of blood from his hand. Fiery red words appeared with another flourish of her wand 'DAMIEN JACK POTTER' before the barrier glowed a brighter shade of red, and Damien was permitted entry.

"Wait in the carriages," the Professor told him, before she called out the next name on her list. Damien obediently dragged his trunk behind him and trudged up the familiar steps of the carriage. When at last all the students were registered, the carriages slowly rose into the air, weightless and unsupported. Ginny managed to find Damien and they sat together for their journey towards Hogwarts, but Hermione and Ron were sadly still occupied with their duties, whatever they may be. It turned out being a Head Boy and Head Girl wasn't as easy as it seemed to Damien.

Fifteen minutes later found an extremely ravenous Damien seated at the Gryffindor table, impatiently awaiting the Great Feast. But alas for the youngest Potter's growling stomach, the transfer students and First Years needed to be sorted before the Great Feast could begin. And even after that, Professor Dumbledore still had his grand opening speech to make.

Ron slid onto the bench beside Damien as the transfer students queued up before the stool in which the Sorting Hat was placed on. "I wish they'd start the Feast already," Ron whispered to his friend. "My stomach's rumbling so loudly I feel as though even Professor Dumbledore can hear it."

Damien smiled in agreement. He really had much in common with his friend.

Like the past few years, the Sorting Hat burst into song before the Sorting started. A couple of First Years shivered visibly as the hat's voice bounced across the walls, reverberating across the Great Hall of Hogwarts. Damien smiled slightly, remembering the his first day of school. He'd been so anxious to be in Gryffindor, he'd proclaimed himself one even before the Sorting Hat was placed on his head. Ron had immediately taken a liking to the First Year Damien Potter, and they had quickly became friends.

"I will first start with the transfer students," this was Professor McGonagall's voice. "When I call out your name, please step forwards and place the Sorting Hat on your head. The Hat will Sort you to your respective Houses." She paused for a moment as she consulted her list. "Abell, Davidson!"

The Sorting went on. Damien had his eyes fixed on the rude boy he'd met previously. The boy seemed to regard himself superior to the others; he stood erect and tall, his eyes darting around. Visibly he looked relaxed, not to mention the infrutiating confident smirk the boy wore lightly on his lips. Damien scrutinised the perfect posture, the piercing blue eyes.

"Must be a Slytherin," he told Ron. Ron merely shrugged.

"Mason, Kit!" Professor McGonagall called out.

The boy, Kit, strode forwards and took his seat on the three- legged stool, then placed the Sorting Hat on his head. Silence descended over the Hall as everyone waited for the Hat to make its desicion.

From where Damien was sitting, he could see Kit's expression changing; his confidence melting into something that resembled... horror?

"GRYFFINDOR!" the Hat cried.

This time, Kit looked outraged; stunned, no doubt about it. But as the rest of the Gryffindors clapped, Kit quickly arranged his expression and displayed a friendly, polite smile. Frankly, Damien hadn't expected this outcome either. That rude boy had seemed Slytherin to his very bone. He'd even made acquaintances with the Slytherins on the train! If there was one thing good about Kit being Sorted into Gryffindor, it was the priceless looks of disbelief on the Slytherins' faces.

"Wrong on that count, mate," Ron said to Damien, looking amused. "As they say, don't judge a book by its cover."

Damien scowled deeply.

**A/N: Thanks for reading! That was an extra long chapter for you. Please drop me a thought; reviews are greatly valued and appreciated!**

**Take care,  
Epsilon Scorpii**


	8. Chapter 8: The First Day at Hogwarts

**The Second Chance**

DISCLAIMER: I own nothing of J. K. Rowling and Kurinoone's universe. This story is written with permission from Kurinoone, and is written based on Kurinoone's fabulous, beyond awesome story- "The Darkness Within" (which was inspired by by Project Dark Overlord's wonderful story- "The Shattered Prophesy").

* * *

**Chapter 8: The First Day at Hogwarts**

Ron moved up the bench to make space for the new boy, Kit to sit. It seemed as though Kit was reluctant to take the offered seat, but he hurriedly smiled at Ron's curious look.

After the First Years and transfer students were Sorted, Professor Dumbledore stood up to give his speech. Out of the corner of his eye, Ron felt Kit stiffen beside him, but when he turned around, Kit's small polite smile was still on his face.

On catching Kit's quizzical gaze, Ron immediately rearranged his expression into one of a polite Head Boy. "That's the Headmaster of Hogwarts for Witchcraft and Wizardry," he told the new boy. "He's very brilliant and kind... but can be a bit mental sometimes."

Kit raised an eyebrow. "Really?" he said, his tone conversational.

Ron opened his mouth to say something, but his stomach chose that very embarassing moment to growl- loudly. A few students looked around for the source of noise, and Kit looked as though he was trying to contain his amusement for the sake of courtesy.

"It wasn't me- it was Damien," said Ron sheepishly, but it did not convince anyone.

"I hope you do not mind me saying so, Mr. Weasley, but you are a bad liar," Kit told Ron, something between a smirk and a smile playing on his almost too perfect features. The blue eyes seemed to bore into Ron's, sending a slight chill crackling down the redhead's spine.

Ron sighed and attempted a chuckle. "It was only meant to be a joke," he said. "You don't mind do you, Damien?"

At the mention of his name, Damien looked back and scowled, then turned to face the front, where Dumbledore was waiting for the noise to die down expectantly. Kit's eyes seemed to glitter as he watched the dark- haired boy sitting in beside Ron, but it seemed more likely to be the trick of light.

"Um, by the way," added Ron, turning back to face Kit. "My name is Ronald Bilius Weasley. Most of my friends call me 'Ron' for short."

"I know," Kit replied, not frostily, but his tone was certainly not welcoming nor encouraging. "I read it from your badge."

Ron blushed slightly. "Ah, stupid me. So... what was your name again?" he asked, trying to mask his slightly red face by flicking his hair. Kit looked sideways at him and hesitated a bit before answering.

"Kit Mason."

Ron nodded and made to say more, but Dumbledore had already started to speak. Catching Professor McGonagall's stern look, the Head Boy immediately shifted his attention to the Headmaster.

"Welcome back to Hogwarts," said Dumbledore, spreading his arms wide as he surveyed the crowd of heads facing him. Damien noticed, even from a far distance, Dumbledore's eyes were twinkling merrily. "Without further ado, firstly, I'd like to introduce our new Defense Against Dark Arts Professor, a talented retired Auror the Ministry has appointed for this position... Professor Wynter."

A dark Professor walked calmly through the doors of the Great Hall, his footsteps echoing loudly in the Great Hall. Kit's eyes darkened as he regarded the man. Professor Wynter carried himself with ease yet with caution. Damien noticed the rigid alert posture skilled duellers like Harry always adapted in prepare of any surprise attack.

"That Professor is going to be a paranoid yet brilliant dueller," said Damien to Ron, his eyes never leaving the new Professor.

"Paranoid?" Lavender Brown's voice hissed across the table. "He's the coolest Professor I've ever seen!"

"Yeah, he seems dark and dangerous in such a handsome sort of way!" this was Parvati's voice.

Damien and Ron pretended to gag simultaneously. A half smile played across Kit's lips, as though he was thinking of some type of private joke. "Handsome! Right, let's see what the Professor has to say about that," said Ginny, rolling her eyes.

Before Lavender could retort back, the Professor had already reached the platform and was shaking hands with Professor Dumbledore. Behind the facade of Kit, Harry secretly wondered how kindly Rodolphus Lestrange would take this bunch of seventh year students drooling about his looks. Correction- his looks under a glamour. However, many students clapped heartily as Professor Wynter bowed and gave a royal wave, before sitting on the indicated direct left of Professor Dumbledore's seat.

As the clapping slowly died down, Professor Dumbledore continued on with his speech. "This year, Hogwarts has made the decision of accepting transfer students from both abroad or local for the greater good. I sincerely hope you will find Hogwarts welcoming, and as for the others, I wish that you will assist the new students to adjust themselves to this new environment and make them comfortable."

"Meanwhile, there is also the issue of exams. As Hogwarts was closed down previously due to a tragic incident, all of the Sixth and Fifth year Hogwarts students have not taken their OWL nor their NEWT exams. In this case, the OWL exams will be held on 5th April; the NEWT exams will take place on 15th of May. If any of you have taken these exams, you must present your results to Professor McGonagall, or you will not be excused."

This drew collective moans from the students. Dumbledore smiled.

"Now, we shall move on to the topic of security in Hogwarts..."

Ron and Damien groaned out loud simultaneously. They couldn't help it, really; they'd heard all of it before at the Order meeting, not to mention the fact that they were both ravenously, extremely, excruciatingly, painfully hungry. Hermione on the contrary, sat up straighter at the mention of Dumbledore's achievement to combine blood and magic in the security barriers of Hogwarts. However, she proved to be disappointed when Dumbledore did not elaborate on the subject, but merely forewarned the students to stay away from the barriers, and that it stretched towards half of the Forbidden Forest.

"Food, please food," Damien pleaded under his breath when Dumbledore paused in his speech.

Professor Dumbledore seemed to hear the youngest Potter's silent pleads.

"...as the night is getting late, I shall say no more. Tuck in!"

"At last!" cried Ron, pretending to wipe a tear from the corner of his eye as his free hand grabbed some materializing fries.

Beside him, Kit looked slightly sick.

* * *

Lavender Brown gave a shrill squeal when they received their timetables the next day. They had double Defense directly after lunch, which meant the girls could admire Professor Wynter's features up close. Hermione too looked slightly excited at the prospect. Ron made a disparaging noise.

"Are there no other decent guys in the world?" he exclaimed to Damien, shooting his bushy haired friend a glare. "Of all people, a Professor! Seriously!"

"If you think I'm even thinking about Professor Wynter's looks, then you're sadly mistaken," said Hermione frostily, shooting a furtive look at Ron. "He just appears to have talent, and I'm looking forward to his first lesson, that's all."

"I haven't asked," Ron retorted. "Why deny it before the question is brought to your face?"

"It wasn't a question; the way you said it made it sound like a statement," Hermione rolled her eyes and stepped out of the portrait hole. Ron pursed his lips behind Hermione's retreating back.

"Are you going to admit it anytime soon?" asked Damien casually, staring at the patch of floor before Ron's feet.

"Admit what?" snapped Ron.

Damien feigned a look of pure innocence. "That you like Hermione, of course."

Ron's face immediately turned tomato red. For a few moments he opened and closed his mouth, but no sound came out. Next came undignified spluttering. Third came a stuttered and unconvincing denial.

Damien suddenly felt sorry he had asked.

"I apologise my friend," said Damien gravely, clapping Ron on his back. "I didn't know you'd take it that hard. Sorry for asking."

Outside the portrait hole, Hermione bit the inside of her cheek to prevent a smile, before striding down towards the Great Hall for breakfast, her usual stack of books held tightly in her arms.

* * *

When most of the Gryffindors arrived at the Great Hall, Kit had already finished his breakfast and was preparing to leave. On the way to the Gryffindor table, Ron came face- to- face with Kit. The blue- eyed boy didn't look good with dark circles beneath his eyes, but Kit nodded in acknowledgement hesitantly when Ron grinned at him.

"Morning, Kit! Finished breakfast already?" Ron decided to go for cheery appearances.

"An hour before you arrived," agreed Kit.

Ron looked confused. "But why didn't you leave an hour ago, then?" he asked.

Kit held up a thick book. "I was reading. The peaceful and quiet atmosphere was very relaxing."

Kit bit back the urge to emphasise the words 'peaceful', 'quiet' and 'was'.

"Ah, I see," Ron showed no sign of leaving. "So... what's for breakfast?"

He seemed to look expectantly at Kit. Kit smiled back pleasantly.

"The answer is laid out neatly on the table," he replied.

"Ah," Ron said again. Somehow, talking to Kit always made him, the Head Boy, look like an idiot, even though Kit wasn't exactly unfriendly. It was just the fact that Kit mustered the ability of twisting his ways of speech.

"So... see you then," Ron said, suddenly eager to join Damien at the breakfast table.

Kit nodded curtly and walked off in the other direction, passing by a couple of girls who batted their eyelashes and giggled as he did so. However, needless to say, Kit did not acknowledge them.

Ron gratefully slipped into the seat on the youngest Potter's right. Damien looked up as Ron helped himself to a bowl of porridge and bacon.

"You know that boy?" Damien asked Ron, gesturing to where Kit had left.

"Not exactly," the redhead replied. "He's Kit Mason, transfer student from abroad, and he sat beside me yesterday after the Sorting. We talked... a bit." Ron grinned at Damien. "He's the one you said would be in Slytherin for sure. I should've forced you to make a bet then."

Damien did not smile back. "That boy is weird. He was clearly Slytherin through and through."

Ron frowned. "What makes you say that?"

Through mouthfuls of scrambled egg and pancakes, Damien recounted the tale of his fall, his apologising to Hedwig, and Kit's scathing words. Damien also mentioned that Kit stepped out of the Slytherin's compartment, and seemed to have made friends within the gang when they exited the Hogwarts Express. But Ron disregarded the whole thing.

"Exactly, he's just a little weird because he was mixing with wrong company on the way to Hogwarts. It must have really been a shock for him to end up in Gryffindor," Ron defended Kit.

"But that's it, Kit is a transfer student, Ron," Damien reasoned. "Why was he so shocked and horrified when the Hat announced him as a Gryffindor? He can't have known so much about the Houses."

"You said it yourself, Kit was with the Slytherins on the train! Obviously, they've told Kit their version of Hogwarts and the four Houses, undoubtedly making the Gryffindors sound like perfect dunderheads," Ron didn't seem what the fuss was about.

"He was a Slytherin before he met the Slytherins," Damien remained stubborn. "He laughed at me talking to Hedwig. That's not exactly friendly, is it? Especially when he was only a transfer student, and that was the first time we met."

Ron, much to Damien's irritation, laughed out loud, spraying bread crumbs everywhere. "So that's it? You have ill feelings towards Kit because he laughed at you talking to your owl! That's the reason you condemned him to Slytherin?"

Damien gave up trying to reason with his friend. "Yeah yeah, whatever. Just treat me as a patient suffering from paranoia. So, who's the Quidditch Captain?"

Ron didn't seem to mind the abrupt change of topic. "Don't know, I haven't got around asking. Who do you think it'll be?"

"Well, you're the eldest in the team, so naturally I assumed it would be you... but since you're already Head Boy..." Damien trailed off, thinking of other possibilities. So far, Ginny, Demelza and himself were playing Chaser, Ron Keeper, Jimmy Peakes Beater. They were lack of one Beater and one Seeker. "Whose the second eldest?" Damien murmured to himself, before his eyes widened and turned immediately to face a certain red- headed girl.

Ginny caught Damien's gaze and shook her head slightly. Damien's eyes widened in shock, startled he was at the revelation. Ginny was Quidditch Captain! And she had kept it to herself, never saying a word as Molly made Ron his favorite dishes and praised him for becoming the second Head Boy in the Weasley family.

"Damien? Hello?" Ron waved a hand over Damien's glazed eyes. "Who is it?"

"Um... Demelza!" Damien said, feigning excitement. "I think it's Demelza... she seemed pretty secretive yesterday. It must be her!"

Ron was surprised. "Not Demelza Robins? Why, she's only a Fifth- Year. Wonder what Professor Dumbledore was thinking of."

"Mmhm," agreed Damien, shooting a look at Ginny.

'When can I stop acting?'

Ginny made a puppy dog face to get her point across. Damien silently groaned. He hated keeping secrets.

After breakfast, they departed for their respective classes. Damien had Transfiguration for his first lesson; Ginny had double History. The youngest Weasley yawned widely as she prepared for her upcoming lessons, and Damien laughed.

As Hermione and Ron approached the dungeons, mentally preparing themselves for Snape's greasy face to appear, a taller someone brushed past them towards the Potions lab. Ron stopped in his tracks as he recalled the blond hair.

"Malfoy?" he said, a little too loudly.

Draco stopped and turned back. "A problem, Weasley?" he said in a mockingly pleasant tone.

Hermione cut in before Ron could respond. "W-We just wanted to say hello," she said in a sincere tone. "After all we've been through together, I thought maybe we could- " She faltered as Draco's watchful gaze rested on her. He was still expressionless, but Ron was certain they were being taunted.

"Did you really think, after all I've been through, I'd be on better terms with you?" the Slytherin said slowly, his eyes flickering from Hermione to Ron. "We've never been friends, and we'll never be. What happened during the war changes nothing, least of all what I think about the likes of you. Got that?"

Ron was already reaching for his wand, but Hermione's restraining arm prevented him. Draco cast them one last fleeting look before stalking away, his posture rigid and upright. Ron was practically seething with anger.

"The likes of you? What does he mean by that! Don't you see now Hermione? The likes of _him _are forever that inferior, and nothing can change that! No matter what you said, or what happened, his filthy mouth still remains intact. I tell you, the best course of action is not by approaching him as _friends _as you put it, but to blast his tongue to pieces! That would change everything, wouldn't it!"

Before Hermione could calm him down, Kit chose that exact moment to appear behind Ron.

"Problem, Weasley?" he asked innocently, copying Draco's tone to perfection.

Ron whirled around in surprise. "Erm, no, not at all," he replied at last, thinking that he would set a terrible example as a Head Boy if Kit knew he was just a finger away from hexing Draco Malfoy to hell on the way to Potions lab. "We were just on the way to Potions."

Kit raised his eyebrows and nodded, before walking past them.

"Erm, no, not at all!" Hermione repeated in a lofty and sarcarstic tone. "Both Kit and Draco greeted you exactly the same way, but I don't see you trying to hex Kit. In fact, you were being downright polite!"

"What's wrong with being polite to Kit?" Ron started arguing again.

Hermione wasn't about to back down. "What's wrong with being civil to Draco Malfoy?"

"Besides the fact he's a slimy Slytherin, pureblood- loving, arrogant, stuck- up and obnoxious git, nothing!" Ron fumed.

"You don't know much about Kit either," Hermione retorted.

"At least he hasn't given me a reason to hate him," Ron replied. "And Kit was Sorted into Gryffindor. That has to count something."

Hermione rolled her eyes and decided to let the argument be for a while.

When they made their way into the Potions lab, it was to their surprise and delight to find that Snape hadn't arrived yet. They quickly settled down beside Seamus and Dean. However, Ron caught sight of Kit... who was sharing a table with, of all people, Draco Malfoy.

"That is not going to do," said Ron slowly, more to himself than to Hermione. "Let's go."

"Ron?" Hermione was surprised. "What are you going to do now?"

"Sit with Draco Malfoy," said Ron with a falsely sweet voice. "Isn't that what you wanted me to do? Well, I'll go keep him company, so don't you worry about me. You can pair with Kit."

"It's not like Draco is going to hex Kit in Potions," said Hermione, feeling irritable. "Why do you absolutely need to keep Kit away from Draco Malfoy, I really can't comprehend."

Ron looked determined. "Not only I have to keep Kit away from Draco Malfoy, I need to keep Kit away from all Slytherins as well."

Hermione rolled her eyes and smacked her forehead, something she had picked up from Ginny. "Ri-ight. Care to explain why?"

Ron was only too eager. "The Slytherins are polluting Kit's mind," he said, lowering his voice as though sharing an important secret. "Kit was horrified when he was Sorted into Gryffindor yesterday, remember? That's because he's been mixing with the Slytherins on the Hogwarts Express. Damien told me. The slimy gits have surely told Kit all the bad stuff about Gryffindor to turn Kit against us. So in conclusion, the farther Kit stays away from Slytherins the better. We have to make sure Kit gets the correct impression of our House and Hogwarts."

This time, Hermione couldn't even bother to roll her eyes. "You do realize that reasoning is absolutely absurd?" she said, but Ron was not listening. He stood up and slung his bag over his shoulder, about to move over to Kit's table.

However, Snape chose that exact moment to enter. Dark circles, wrinkles, a sour expression graced with a scowl and a billowing black cloak, Snape remained true to the general impression of a mad, sour old bat. Albeit one that was not to be trifled with. At the sight of Ron standing up, bag slung over one shoulder, Snape's lips curved into a smirk.

"Ten points from Gryffindor for being late," he sneered at the Gryffindor Head Boy as he walked past.

Ron's eyes widened visibly in anger, but before he could do more than curse halfway, Hermione had dragged Ron back onto his seat and threatened to jinx him if he didn't keep quiet. But that didn't stop Ron from complaining in loud whispers.

"- and how does he know I was late? He was even later himself!"

Snape, however, had started talking.

"Turn to your textbooks, page one hundred and fifty- five," he started. "We shall be starting from the basics today, since all of you have missed a crucial part of your education last year. The ingredients are already on the board. As we are currently low on Potions ingredients, you are to split up into pairs to brew the Potion to absolute perfection within 30 minutes."

Ron flipped to the page and did a dramatic show of fainting. "Is he mad! How can be the Draught of Living Death considered the basics!"

"Ron, keep your voice down!" Hermione said warningly.

Snape surveyed the class with a smirk. "Those who fail to comply will be required to pass up a five foot long essay regarding the poisons found in the eighteenth and nineteenth century. Your time begins now."

"Five foot? Did he actually say five foot?" Ron's incredulous voice was a little louder than intended, but fortunately Snape seemed preoccupied with terrorizing Seamus, who accidentally tripped on the way to get his cauldron.

Hermione wasn't listening. "I'll go and get the ingredients," she said, not looking at Ron. "Can you fetch the cauldron?"

Ron scowled and left to do Hermione's bidding. When he passed by Kit's table, however, he stopped.

"I can switch with you if you don't want to pair up with that git," Ron said to Kit, indicating Draco, who was staring absently into space, completely unfazed.

Kit, however, gave Ron a small smile. There was also a glint in those blue eyes that made Ron feel as though the new boy knew something that he did not. "I'm fine. Thanks for asking," Kit told him politely.

Ron was about to argue- he had a small fear that Kit actually _wanted _to mix with the Slytherins instead of the Gryffindors- but Snape had wandered over. Ron scowled and made his way back to their table, where Hermione was already chopping up the Oakja roots.

She barely looked up when Ron arrived with the cauldron.

"Can you crush the Sophorous Beans for me?" she asked, bending over the mass of ingredients on their table.

"What's that?" snapped Ron.

"The... beetle- like beans," Hermione indicated them with her pointer, before grasping the hilt of her Potions knife and continuing to work.

Ron pursed his lips and picked up his knife. Imagining Malfoy's face on each of the beans, Ron raised his knife higher and stabbed.

* * *

At the first table, the Gryffindor and Slytherin were not cooperating well.

"I can manage the Potions without your clumsy aid in 30 minutes," said Draco in his haughty tone. "So you can just sit there and play the dumb Gryffindork act."

Kit looked amused. "Is that the best you can do, Malfoy? Me and my _clumsy_ efforts can produce a perfection concoction within a duration of_ less _than 30 minutes."

Draco's eyes flashed with annoyance. "I correct my statement," he said. "I can manage the Potion unaided within 25 minutes."

Kit smirked. "Prove it."

"I will indeed," Draco said at once, pushing back his stool as he did so. He straightened his robes and sent Kit a death glare, before making his way casually towards the cupboard to pick his ingredients. However, when Draco was about to pick the Gurdyroots, he caught sight of Snape's timpiece, displaying the words: '25 minutes left'.

Draco cringed. Surely not? He couldn't believe he had wasted five precious minutes bantering with a stupid Gryffindor. Feeling a slight bubble of panic rising, Draco neglected to choose the best Gurdyroots, opting instead to simply select five before hurrying back to their seats. Kit however, seemed completely unfazed.

"Twenty- four minutes left now, Malfoy," Kit said in a mocking tone, flicking his knife as he did so.

Draco refused to back down. "I can still manage it," the Slytherin said confidently, but his thudding heart suggested otherwise. He couldn't bear the thought of looking stupid in front of a transfer student, much less a _Gryffindor._

With that sentence, Draco picked up his knife and began to work quickly. He used the hilt of the Potions knife to crush the Sophorous Beans, then dumped them unceremoniously into the cauldron.

"Twenty- two minutes left," Kit warned Draco, his tone completely relaxed.

The Slytherin gritted his teeth and made no reply. In his haste to complete the Potion, Draco seized the Gurdyroots and cut them with lightning speed, before throwing them into the cauldron with a flourish of his wand. Now he needed to let the mixture boil for five minutes, before the next step was required.

Kit leaned forwards and studied the mixture, a mocking frown creasing his too perfect features. He stared hard at the bubbling liquid, then allowed his piercing gaze to fall on Draco instead.

"What?" Draco snapped, a little self- consciously. Surely he hadn't done anything wrong!

Kit sighed before delivering his lecture. "The Gurdyroots you chose are too neutral in their venom content. You should find those with slightly barbed ends- those will brew more concentrated poisons."

Draco felt his annoyance rising rapidly. "I was in a hurry," he replied through gritted teeth. "As though I didn't know that."

Kit leaned back and gave the cauldron one last glance.

"We'll redo it," he said.

With a flick from the Gryffindor's wand, the cauldron disappeared along with the Potion, much to Draco's horror.

"What do you think you're doing!" hissed the Slytherin angrily as he rounded on Kit. "We only have eighteen minutes left!"

Kit merely laughed in response, his demeanour remained calm. "Relax, Malfoy," Kit said, perfectly calm. "We're both adept at Potions. Why worry?"

Malfoy growled in response. "Even I have only managed 23 minutes before, but never 18!" He scooped up the rest of the ingredients in his hands, clearly frustrated.

"Me neither," Kit admitted. "But we'll manage."

Draco whirled around, taking deep breaths to calm himself.

"You go choose your precious roots, then," he ordered Kit, barely concealing his annoyance and anger. "I'll get the rest."

With that, the Slytherin stomped over to the Potions cupboard and yanked it open so hard the drawers nearly fell out. Kit laughed noiselessly behind him. Furiously, Draco rummaged around the cupboard and took out all the needed ingredients. Kit was still taking his time picking out the best Gurdyroots.

Draco returned to the table a minute later, panting slightly. Kit was already there, preparing the cauldron and fire. Kit eyed the timepiece.

17 minutes left.

"I guess my clumsy aid is in need now, is it not?" Kit said lightly, his eyes focused on the Potions knife he was flicking.

Draco made a disparaging noise. "Let's see if you are any good," Draco said irritably, pushing the ingredients over to Kit.

Kit smirked and reached for the Sophorous beans. He raised his knife higher than required just to draw a retort from the Slytherin. Draco immediately seized the opportunity and scoffed in an over dramatic manner.

"That is not going to work," Malfoy said with a mocking laugh, shaking his head knowingly as he did so.

Kit raised an eyebrow and smirked, something he seemed to do quite often. "Trust me, it will."

Three seconds later, there was a thud. Draco's eyes widened. All the beans were now crushed and dumped into the cauldron. A measurable amount of juice was boiling merrily in the cauldron now. Kit had acted so fast- if not for Draco's adept hand at Potions, he wouldn't have known how the Gryffindor did it.

"Where did you learn that?" the Slytherin asked sharply, narrowing his eyes at his partner.

Kit grinned and looked at him. "You," he said simply.

"That's a stupid answer," Draco snapped.

"I give answers fit for the listeners," returned Kit. "Now it's your turn to prove your hand at Potions."

Draco bit the inside of his lip and said nothing. He caught the Gurdyroots Kit tossed him deftly, then set to work without further hesitation, a determined look on his face. It was clear the Slytherin was unwilling to lose. Draco chopped up the Gurdyroots as quickly as Kit did the beans, his movements blurred. Within five seconds, the Gurdyroots were bubbling in the Sophorous Bean juice. Kit leaned forwards again, and Draco suddenly had a very bad feeling about it.

"The roots are roughly cut and are of different sizes," Kit said, eyeing the mixture with a look of disdain. "This will not be accepted. We'll redo it."

And just like that, before Draco could stop him, the cauldron vanished for the second time that day.

"No!" the Slytherin cried, actually grabbing the cauldron in frustration and panic. But it was empty.

Draco collasped back into his seat, burying his face in his hands as he tried in vain to contain his anger. When he finally looked up, Kit was looking very amused at the Slytherin's expression, which infrutiated Draco all the more.

"Do you actually want to do the essay or what!" Draco hissed furiously. "We now lack ingredients and time!"

"There is still fifteen minutes left. Surely we'll manage it," said Kit, still his annoying, calm self. "You must aim for the highest in every attempt. Carelessness is what I do not tolerate. I shall not accept its existence in any of my projects, or potion, for this matter."

Draco nearly lost it there and ten. But instead, he pulled his expressionless mask over his features and squeezed his eyes shut. When the Slytherin opened his eyes again, he now held a cool and intimidating exterior- or so he thought.

"You promise not to make my potion vanish without my permission this time?" Draco asked dangerously, holding up his Potions knife to emphasise the point.

Kit returned his gaze coolly. "I promise no such thing," he said, his tone even. "It all depends on you. If you brew the Potion properly, without the carelessness you displayed earlier, I believe there will not be a need for us to write the essays."

Draco made a disparaging noise and left the table quickly, before he could inflict permanent danger on the mental Gryffindor beside him. Of all people he had to pair up with!

Hoping desperately Snape wouldn't notice him taking ingredients out of the Potions cupboard for the third time, (especially when the Potions Master had just told them Hogwarts was low on Potions ingredients supply), Draco slid open the drawers with lightning speed as he gathered all the needed ingredients. It was to their fortune that Snape was busy tormenting Dean and Seamus, whose Potion was a muddy, foul- smelling brown substance.

This time, wary of the insane Gryffindor sitting beside him, Draco treated everything carefully- from setting down the cauldron on the table to handing Kit the Sophorous Beans.

With that done, Draco snatched up his knife. However, both he and Kit seemed to reach for the Gurdyroots simultaneously. An amused smile spread across Kit's features.

"Lucius taught you well," the Gryffindor said, withdrawing his hand and reaching for the Sophorous Beans instead.

A dangerous look flitted across Draco's features, but he said nothing, opting instead to issue orders. "You will do the black thingies and chop two roots," the Slytherin instructed. "I'll chop three roots and do the herbs."

With that, he snatched up his knife and began to work.

Kit's voice however, made him stop in action. "Sophorosxcia Extrealis," the Gryffindor said.

"What?" Draco snapped, prepared to snatch the cauldron away this time if Kit gave any attempt to make their Potion vanish again.

"_Sophoroxcia Extrealis_," repeated Kit. "You're still using the Potions ingredients carelessly. You don't even call them by their proper name."

Draco had to clench his fists to stop himself from slapping the idiot beside him. Was now really the time to care about the _Sophoroxcia Extrealis' _proper name? They barely had time to complete the Potion! But in the end, Draco inhaled a deep breath and picked up three more roots to chop, just in case he lost control of himself and cursed Kit's head off there and then.

This time, he worked quickly but extremely carefully, slicing each piece of Gurdyroots with precision and speed. In fact, twenty seconds later, Draco's Gurdyroots turned out to better cut than Kit's.

Unable to resist the urge to brag, Draco leaned over and surveyed Kit's roots with an air of superiority, his eyes glinting with arrogance and pleasure- and the Slytherin said the fateful words he would regret uttering for the next three days.

"Your roots are not cut to the exact precision," Draco said as he eyed them professionally, immitating Kit's squint to irritate the Gryffindor. "The fifth slice is thinner than the rest by zero point five inches-"

Kit raised his wand. "Then we'll redo it!" he cried jovially.

"NO!"

In his panic, Draco reached forwards and grabbed the boiling hot cauldron with lightning speed, scalding his fingers in the process. With a yelp, the Slytherin let go of the cauldron and inspected his burnt fingers, hissing in pain.

The whole class was staring at their table now. Even Snape stopped in mid- lecture for a few seconds, before the Potions Master chose to ignore Draco's yell and turned back to Seamus. "Eight more minutes, Finnigan," he said as he passed Dean's table. "Then you and your partner will be writing the essays."

Kit, on the other hand was barely concealing his laughter. "Relax, Malfoy," he said. "I was only joking. On the bright side, your reflexes aren't that bad."

Draco's face was as red as his scalded fingers. "You- are- a- horror," he hissed each words with venom.

Kit added a few more strips of Oakja herbs into the cauldron. The mixture immediately began to bubble and froth merrily.

"Here, I'll do it," the Gryffindor said. "It requires both hands."

The Slytherin sulkily let Kit do the stirring. After a few more quick stirs, they finally succeeded. Draco heaved a sigh of relief and muttered another Cooling Charm on his fingers to numb the pain.

"The Draught of Living Death," Kit mused, stirring the smooth mixture.

The next second, the Potion had vanished.

There was a loud crash as Draco fell from his seat. In a fit of desperation and anger, he had got up too quickly, entangled his long legs with the stool, lost his balance and tasted the dust settled on the floor. Blinking away tears of pain, Draco scowled deeply and looked up.

Kit was clearly fighting his laughter.

"Relax, Malfoy," the Gryffindor said again. "The Potion is only on Professor Snape's desk. No need to panic."

Sure enough, the Potion was already cooled and corked into a bottle on Snape's desk.

Draco's eyes bulged. _The nerve of that Gryffindor!_

Painfully, Draco picked himself off the floor. He was saved by further embarassment, however, when the bell rang, signalling the end of the class. Seamus and Dean were gloomily packing their bags, having failed to brew the Potion. In fact, the only two groups who succeeded were Hermione's and Kit's.

"Remember to hand in your essays by tomorrow," Snape reminded them, his voice cold. "Class dismissed."

The students filed out of the dungeon quickly. Draco sent one last, fleeting look in Kit's direction before hastening to do the same.

**A/N: Sorry for the long wait! My computer broke down, so I had to borrow my father's laptop to type this chapter instead. Please drop me a thought! One review can make my day! :D  
****  
Epsilon Scorpii**


	9. Chapter 9: Building Mysteries

**The Second Chance**

DISCLAIMER: I own nothing of J. K. Rowling and Kurinoone's universe. This story is written with permission from Kurinoone, and is based on Kurinoone's fabulous, beyond awesome story- "The Darkness Within" (which was inspired by Project Dark Overlord's wonderful story- "The Shattered Prophesy").

* * *

**Chapter 9: Building Mysteries**

Ron was still chortling as they made their way back to the Castle for lunch; Damien listening amusedly to Ron's animated speech. His redheaded friend kept making exaggerated motions with his hands, not to mention undignified squealing which was supposed to resemble the scream Draco made back at the Potions lab. By the end of the story, Ron looked more like a fool than Draco Malfoy.

Kit trailed behind the trio quietly, his eyes roving around, as though drinking in every bit of Hogwarts. He needed a detailed map of Hogwarts to ensure his plans would not go awry. So far, he only had mountains of vague sketches and drawings, which were obtained by trawling through the flowery descriptions in _Hogwarts: A History, _and with the help of his father.

Voldemort had also mentioned something about the Room of Requirement... that would be a good place to plot his strategies. He had spent most of last night drawing out details about Hogwarts and figuring out other hidden passageways. The Dark Lord confirmed that there were at least three. On the other hand, the obtuse redhead, Ron Weasley, might not be a good Head Boy, but he was certainly informative when he gave Kit a quick tour of Hogwarts. They had visited the first, second and third floor classrooms last night ten minutes before curfew, and Kit had drawn more information out of Ron than the redhead had realized. The One- Eyed- Witch portrait passageway Weasley had let slip, for instance.

"Hey, Kit!"

Ron's voice broke through Kit's train of thoughts. Looking up, he found the redhead gesturing wildly, beckoning Kit to follow him. Sighing, Kit passed by Hermione and reached the Head Boy, who was standing on the top flight of stairs.

"We're having lunch now, Kit," Ron informed Kit, grinning all over his freckly face. "Care to join us? If you do, I can show you the amazing Quidditch Pitch Hogwarts has, and the broomshed before Defense begins. What about it?"

Kit lifted his blue eyes to meet Ron's and smiled. "Sounds great."

Damien slid down into his seat beside Dean Thomas as Ron continued to entertain Kit. Ginny, too, joined them, sitting between the Gryffindor transfer student and Hermione.

Dean looked up when he saw Damien approaching and gave the youngest Potter a wide grin.

"So, you're the Captain now, aren't you?" Dean said loudly and directly.

This sudden statement nearly made Damien choke on his sandwich. "Wha-?"

Dean laughed and elbowed his best friend, Seamus. "I told you so! It really is our Damien!"

The youngest Potter groaned and swallowed the rest of his bacon- and- egg sandwich in one single gulp. "Look, Dean-" he began, but Dean didn't seem to listen to him.

"You must be the first, to be made Captain at fourteen!" he continued, putting an arm around Damien and nearly strangling the sole heir of the Potter family. "This is simply wicked. Why didn't you tell? Never mind, I'll tell the rest."

Damien swatted his friend's arm away, struggling to get up, alarm bells ringing off in his head. He expected Dean to shout any moment- to proclaim a huge mistake to the entire Gryffindor house-

"No!" Damien said loudly and clearly, standing up as he did so. To his surprise, Dean was still munching through his vegetable pie. Damien had purposely raised the volume of his voice to cover Dean's expected shouts of glee, so now it seemed as though the youngest Potter had yelled abnormally loudly for no express reason.

Many eyes were on him now. Deciding to get through it all the same, Damien continued. "I am not the Quidditch Captain," he announced to the Gryffindor table. "So please do not mistake me for having such a great... honor, anymore."

Merlin, that had to be the worst speech he'd ever made. Or was it considered a speech? Speaking aloud in front of a group of assembled students counted as one, didn't it? But aforementioned students weren't _assembled- _they were merely at the Great Hall for _lunch. _Oh never mind.

There was loud chorus of, "Then who is it?"

Ah, so it was time for revenge. The youngest Potter grinned wickedly as a certain redheaded girl dropped the sandwich she was holding.

"Our very pretty and humble belle of Hogwarts!" Damien said evilly, watching as Ginny pretended to be very interested in her scrambled eggs.

"Who?" said several voices at once.

Dean was ecstatic. "Is it Demelza Robins or Ginny?"

Both aforementioned Quidditch players shook their head simultaneously. Damien, however, noticed that Ginny already had her wand ready. Wary of the redhead's hexes, Damien decided to back off, albeit rather reluctantly.

"You can ask them both," he suggested.

Ginny gave a silent moan and turned away. It was therefore slightly disconcerting for her to find Kit Mason's piercing blue eyes resting on her. She met his gaze and offered an uncomfortable smile.

Kit smiled politely and looked away. "Congratulations," he told her in an undertone.

Ginny smiled. "Thanks. But how did you know it was me?" she asked curiously. "Was I that obvious?"

Kit's eyes darted to Ginny's wand and back. "You neglected stealth in your haste to reach your wand," he replied.

"So it was obvious I was going to hex Damien if he told?" Ginny said with a suggested laugh.

Kit merely shrugged and picked up his goblet to drink. Ginny was just about to say something else before the penny dropped. Either Damien had given it away, deciding to ignore the potential harm of her wand, or the Gryffindors had figured out that straight Demelza Robins lacked greatly in the skill of lying, whereas she was known to be experienced.

"_Ginny! _You're _Captain?"_

Even Ron whirled around, a horrified expression on his face. "_You?"_

Damien's familiar laughter rang in the background as all faces swivelled to face her. Ginny felt her face heat up. "Look guys," she began, trying to stay calm. "I-"

"Blimey, why didn't you _tell? _Where's your badge?"

Dean was ecstatic, he'd already reached Ginny and was enveloping her in half a hug, causing Ron's surprise to change briefly into one of suspicion. Kit, deciding he preferred to be left out of the _commotion, _got up to leave the Hall.

"Congratulations, Ginny- I'm so glad it's you!" Dean said again, pumping her hand up and down again to emphasise the point.

"Yes, thank you, I-" Ginny turned her head sideways to avoid Dean's obscuring figure. Her eyes found the empty seat beside her- and quickly searched the Hall. It was as she expected; Kit had left the table.

Ginny watched the new Gryffindor disappear round the corridor over Dean's shoulder, feeling an inexplicable well of slight disappointment, before Dean's smile shook her out of her daze.

* * *

"So... it's Defense now," said Ron, a tad unecessarily.

Kit had a sudden upswing of mood after visiting the Quidditch Pitch. "Yes," he agreed whole- heartedly, his smile a tad wider than usual... which somehow seemed _slightly_ alarming. "It's Defense now."

Ron shot his new friend a glance. "Are you really that ecstatic about Professor Wynter's class?" he asked sardnonically.

Kit didn't reply; they had reached the classroom. Hermione had quickly found the front seat and set down her books on it, looking excited. Lavender, Parvati and a few other Ravenclaw girls had quickly filed in and did the same. Ron scowled and led Kit to the back of the class to avoid the giggling girls. It hadn't much effect, however, as Padma Patil and company were seated directly in front of them.

Professor Wynter strode in after Neville, his wand already out as he surveyed the class of students before him. If he did notice the girls goggling over his looks, he paid them no attention. Bright green eyes roved around the classroom for a while, before he tapped the wand for attention.

Silence was immediate for a successful three seconds, before Padma broke out into a giggle. Behind her, Ron tried to smother his laughter, but wasn't altogether successful.

"Back of the class, second last row," Professor Wynter snapped suddenly, causing Ron to straighten hurriedly in panic. "Is there a problem?"

"N-No sir," Ron replied hurriedly, shooting Kit a panicked look.

Kit merely shrugged and smirked. Ron had the grace to look incredulous at Kit's expression.

_Smirked? Really, was now the time?_

"On Weasley's right, you seem to have the answer?"

Kit looked up, shrugging carelessly as he did so. "Are you sure you care to be enlightened, Professor Wynter?" the Gryffindor transfer student asked instead.

The dark Professor smiled humorlessly and tilted his head to one side in answer.

Kit nodded. "It was no trouble sir. The only problem can only be attributed to you and your _glamourous _looks, no offense meant, sir."

Many chortled, before the silence fell once more. The Professor's gaze, if possible, turned a shade colder. "None taken," he said lightly, offering the class a trademark smirk, and he gestured for Kit to sit. The students, especially the girls, relaxed visibly and turned dewy- eyed all over again. Ron rolled his eyes. Kit however, was still smiling... again, as though indulged in some kind of private joke.

"Today," Professor Wynter began, "We will be learning the basics on how to defend oneself against Dark Arts. In all truthfulness, there is only one way to defend yourself when encountering Dark curses. Perhaps one of you could tell me the art of that defense- yes, Miss Patil, is it?"

"The Shield Charm, _Protego," _said Parvati, eager to answer the Professor's first question.

Professor Wynter smiled slightly. "_Protego _will certainly not defend you from Dark Curses- they punch through your shield. No, the answer is much more simple than that. Weasley, perhaps you could enlighten us?"

Ron winced. The probability of him answering a question that someone else had got wrong was sadly miniscule. But then he suddenly had a vision; he remembered how Harry had duelled as he fought off the Death- Eaters' curses- "_Duro," _answered Ron immediately. "Then a wall would appear before you and take the impact of the curse."

"And that leaves you injured or killed by the debris, which is no better off," said the Professor lightly.

"T-Then, I'll Transfigure the debris," suggested Ron. "Into something soft- cotton wool, for instance..."

"Which will doubtless obscure your vision, and handicaps your preparation for the next oncoming curse. No, Weasley, the answer is relatively simple. Think again."

"Umm..." Ron automatically looked at his partner- which happened to be Kit, who was looking elsewhere- for help. Ron tried to convey his plea by nudging Kit, but the boy dodged easily. Ron looked annoyed. However, Kit grinned at looked up at the redhead, nodding as he did so.

Ron was completely nonplussed.

"I already gave you the answer," Kit said in an irritated undertone.

Then understanding hit home. "Dodge!" Ron exclaimed. "The answer is to dodge!"

Professor Wynter smiled. "Correct." He motioned for Ron to take a seat, and the Head Boy did so, grinning.

"Thanks, Kit," he whispered to his partner.

"Weasley's original idea was not a bad one," Professor Wynter continued, striding to the front of the class as he did so. "You could use the charm _Duro _for the wall to take the impact, but instead of transfiguring the debris, you could simply use the shield charm- _Protego. _However, this requires remarkable skill, speed, consumes magical energy, time and much practice to perfect the move. Dodging would be a better idea- unless Dark curses are fired at you in every direction, leaving you no space to avoid them.

"So this is what we are going to do in this lesson. All those seated behind the third row is Group A, those in front are in Group B. Group B, you are to remain before the line I have drawn. Group A- you are able to move freely within the confines of this classroom. Now, all stand up please."

Professor Wynter waved his wand in the air, and all the chairs and tables disappeared rapidly from the class. "On the count of three," he continued, "Group B will start firing curses- nothing that causes potential harm, mind- at Group A. Group A, you are not allowed to deflect those curses- only dodge. Understood?"

There was several murmurs of agreement before Professor Wynter spoke again. "On my count, one- two- three!"

"_Stupefy!"_

_"Impemendita!"_

_"Petrificus Totalus!"_

Some like Hermione were using non- verbal spells, shooting various jinxes and hexes at the students behind. Within seconds, pandemonium ensued, and the students behind ducked and veered about wildly, barely registering what they were doing. Ron's luck held, surprisingly. Whenever a spell came, he'd throw himself onto the floor and roll out of the way of any jets of light. His movements were clumsy, but effective enough. Kit, however, rarely moved- unless someone pushed him, or the jets of light _would _hit him if he didn't. If the latter was the case, he'd just step aside calmly.

It was only when Professor Wynter told them to stop when Kit realized his mistake. All of Group A, except him, Ron and Neville were still standing. The rest were either stunned or immobilised on the floor. Professor Wynter removed the jinxes on the rest of them, and Group A was ordered to join Group B at the front of the class.

All except the three that remained standing. Ron was in the worst shape, panting and coated with dust. Sweat was glistening on Neville's brow, but otherwise he looked just as calm and collected as Kit did.

Kit mentally cursed himself. He'd effectively put himself under the spotlight, when attention was the very least thing he needed. It might sabotage his entire plan. After he'd been so careful! He still made this fatal mistake.

"Congratulations to all three of you, for dodging the curses effectively just now," said Professor Wynter, smiling slightly as he regarded the trio. "This is the final round, before you will take your turn to fire at Group A. Let's see who emerges as the champion."

The professor stepped back to the front of the class. "Group B," he commanded. "On the count of three- one, two, three- fire!"

Ron moaned as he ducked out of the way, rolling on the floor as he did so. Neville weaved about with lightning speed, actions a blur. Only Kit stood in the middle, tensed, fighting all his instincts to duck.

It was harder than he expected. When three jets of light came thundering at him simultaneously, it took all Kit's will to lock and plant his feet firmly in place, before allowing the triple curse to blast him off his feet, immobilised. The class gave 'oohed' as Ron, distracted by his friend's fall, fell after being hit by a Stunner. Only Neville was left, emerging as the champion.

Professor Wynter smiled and congratulated Neville, before restoring Ron and Kit back to their feet.

"Although you did really well," he told them, "I hope that was not your best. I'm sure you could do better than that."

Ron nodded and appreciated Professor Wynter's compliment. The emerald gaze however, lingered on Kit's impassive face, before he turned around and commanded for Group B to take Group A's position.

* * *

"That Defense lesson was _overwhelming," _Ron groaned as they tucked into dinner later that day. "It's a surprise I'm still on my feet."

"You probably wouldn't be if you hadn't slept through History of Magic," Hermione teased, before adding her trademark reprimand, "Honestly Ron, our NEWTs exams are drawing close soon. If you want to have any chance of passing History of Magic..."

Ron didn't even let his bushy haired friend continue. "Hermione, there is _no point _in taking up History of Magic. You don't even need a pass in History to be a Healer. Come to think of it, a pass in History isn't a requirement for _any _career you care to pursue."

Damien couldn't help but agree, but he said nothing to offend both his friends. Instead, he decided to change the subject. "So how was your Defense lesson today? From what I heard, it seemed to be pretty cool."

"_Cool?" _Ron pretended to faint. "Alright, it wasn't all that bad- certainly was thrilling, but I nearly died of heart attack. We were forced to dodge the curses instead of blocking them or using our shields, in preparation of facing Dark Curses. We were split into two groups, and Group A fired jinxes and what not at the other, until few are left standing. Then the champion is determined."

Damien looked pretty interested. "So who came in first?"

"Neville was champion in our group- I came in second, Kit came in third," Ron replied, devouring his chicken pie as he did so. "In Group A, Dean came in first, Hermione second. There was no third place, though- Seamus, Lavender and Parvati got hit almost at the same time."

"Dean? You came in first?" Damien seemed rather amazed at the fact.

The elder Gryffindor grinned proudly. "Guess playing Quidditch and dodging Bludgers really comes into use," he said.

Hermione glanced across at Kit as Ron, Damien and Dean were drawn into their obssession- Quidditch. The transfer student seemed to be preoccupied- as he had been the entire day, especially so after Defense class. Unlike the others, Hermione had noticed Kit's failure at dodging the curses to the end rather suspiciously. She had seen him go taut, preparing for action; seen his eyes narrow in speculation, noticed his muscles tense up to dodge aside... and there was something about his expression when he practically _glared _at the approaching curses.

Something was definitely off.

Suddenly, Kit snapped up; alert, his gaze roaming around the Hall. Hermione quickly looked away. Was it possible that Kit had somehow felt someone staring at him?

Why was he so... aloof?

"Hermione, are you alright?" Ginny waved a hand in front of her, snapping the Head Girl out of her daze.

"Y-Yes, I was just thinking about... Defense class," Hermione forced a smile. Out of the corner of her vision, she felt Kit's prickling gaze landing on her, and somehow it made her pulse rate increase mildly. Ginny nodded, though from her expression, Hermione could tell that the youngest Weasley did not believe her.

But like the true friend she was, Ginny never pressed her for an answer.

* * *

It was already past midnight when Damien made his way up from the Common Room to the boys' dormitories. Ron and Hermione still used the Gryffindor Common Room despite having the Heads Dormitories, just so to be together with their fellow Gryffindors. Both Ron and Hermione hadn't looked into the Head Dormitories yet, but the Head Boy secretly promised to allow the youngest Potter entry when they did- although it wasn't exactly legal, speaking by Hogwarts' rules.

Damien gave a constricted sigh and flopped onto his bed, silently urging the darkness to engulf him into blissful oblivion. But sleep wouldn't come.

At the edge of his vision, Damien saw his elder brother's familiar figure standing in the semi- darkness, smirking. The familiarity of the expression brought about a pang in his heart, and the youngest Potter closed his eyes resolutely, willing the vision to go away.

He knew it was a dream. Or a nightmare. A vision- unreal. He wanted it to go away- badly, before he lost control, before he did something desperate-

At that thought, Damien felt startled. Now he was sounding remarkably like Harry. Perhaps he'd take Harry's advice- to train if he couldn't sleep? That way, he could tire himself, and keep his mind off his elder brother.

No, training would most likely bring about more memories of Harry. Not a good idea.

Frustratedly, Damien lay back in his four- poster bed, burying his face deep in his pillow, as if to fence out every human ill.

If he thought Hogwarts would cure him of his elder brother's untimely departure from his life, he was proved absymally wrong. Dead wrong.

Every single corner. Every nook.

Visiting the old Quidditch Pitch and the broomshed last night. Remembered grabbing an ancient Shooting Star from it, for the first and last time in his life- because he had lent Harry his prized Nimbus 2000.

When Ron had finished the introductions to Kit, they'd moved on.

But he knew Hermione caught the hurt in his eyes.

Every moment. Every second. Every conversation.

Hours before, having dinner with his closest friends.

"_How was your Defense lesson? From what I heard it was pretty cool."_

_"Cool?" _

Ron's dramatic show of fainting, before launching into details.

_Neville came first, me second and Kit came third. _

Remembered thinking, if Harry were there- doubtless he'd been champion.

Remembered wondering, what Harry would think of the Defense lesson.

Would he have found it cool? Up to expectations? Or simply boring and uneducating, just as Harry had found the Hogwarts' curriculum lacking? Damien didn't know; and he never would.

Every face.

Colin Creevey and his little brother, Dennis. Harry had been particularly scary to the siblings, to put them off being his fans. But Damien knew it never worked, for though they were a little more wary of the Dark Prince since, it didn't stop them viewing and cooing over the photos they had secretly snapped when Harry was otherwise preoccupied.

Lavender Brown and Parvati Patil. Sending invitations to Harry by owl. Harry's confusion and embarassment, before turning into anger. Damien's amusement as he carried the sixteen envelopes, making Harry infrutiated.

Neville, facing Harry in a duel-

_Stop it! _he told himself sternly. Pondering over Harry's death wouldn't bring him any good. Not a single ounce. But his thoughts refused to stray away...

Harry was like a dream come true. When Damien had been yearning for an elder brother to annoy, to boss him around. Not exactly the sibling he had pictured in mind, but Harry was just... suited for the role. Perfectly. Even though sometimes the Dark Prince's anger overcame his rational thinking and actions. But like all dreams, he faded. Just like that, with barely few possessions in memory of him.

From deep within his robes, Damien produced the crumpled singed piece of parchment, the last bittersweet reminder of his elder brother's existence.

Barely a few words.

Blurry, crabbed handwriting.

Fear.

A smudged, simple 'goodbye'.

Damien fingered the fragile parchment one last time, before sleep claimed him, and his hand thudded onto his pillow, sinking his entire being into blissful oblivion.

Unnoticed by the youngest Potter, the singed parchment drifted from between his fingers, landing lightly on the floor of the boys' dormitories.

* * *

The next morning, Ron found Kit to be in a darker mood than usual. He barely commuinicated at all, aside from a few non- commital grunts and a silencing gaze. The redhead didn't know what to make of it, so he decided to just let it be.

When they had finished breakfast together, Kit had already long since disappeared from the Gryffindor table. Ron gave the empty seat beside him a half- hearted glance, before shrugging it off. He had two free periods before Transfiguration. However, it wasn't that appealing without his friends- Hermione, who unlike Ron, took Arithmancy and Ancient Runes. Both Damien and Ginny had classes too.

He walked back to the Common Room alone, before noticing Dean and Seamus playing a game of Wizarding Chess. Both Gryffindors beckoned him over enthusiastically, as the redhead was particularly good at the game. It was only through their second match when Kit arrived at the portrait hole, his face schooled into an expressionless mask.

Ron turned around and noticed Kit's subtle change in demeanor. There seemed to be an invisible sign hung over Kit, that screamed 'PRIVACY', which Ron did not dare to approach as of yet. After all, he barely knew the boy- sure, he had made an effort towards a hopeful friendship, but Kit just wasn't like the other Gryffindors. Ron found what Hermione had told him pretty true, though he was rather skeptical at his bushy haired friend's point of view at first. Kit wasn't easy- going, he barely talked or offered opinions, he only quirked smiles and retorts when he seemed to be a good mood, was usually in a fourth dimension and had alarming mood swings.

But the 'alarming mood swings', as Hermione put it, could be attributed to the fact of Quidditch, Ron reasoned. Kit had suddenly seemed like a normal, even _friendly _Gryffindor yesterday at Defense, directly after Ron had showed the transfer student the Quidditch Pitch and broomshed. Not to mention the little stories Ron told about Fred and George sneaking into Hogsmeade through Hogwarts' secret passageways.

At these thoughts, Ron was suddenly amazed by his observation skills. Hermione would be proud! The only other person he had been alert enough to sense the other's emotions, and stop talking when the other cast him a _look, _was in fact a friend he had barely known for a year- Harry. There always had been something about Harry's sudden change in mood or demeanor that prodded Ron to comply and fall silent. Usually, he never noticed- too faraway he was in the dreams of his own voice, but around both Kit and Harry... the way they generated waves of unwelcome when annoyed was not unfamiliar.

Ron only broke out of his daze when Dean's bishop kicked one of his pawns off the table, into his lap. When he blinked again, Kit had long since gone.

"Where is Kit?" Ron felt the urge to ask, even though he knew the answer.

"He just entered, then left again a moment ago- when you were still staring fixedly at the chessboard. Why, were you so occupied you didn't hear him?" Seamus replied. Both Dean and Seamus were playing against the redhead.

"Really?" Ron was surprised. "Are you sure it was him? I thought he had Arithmancy class."

"I'm absolutely certain," replied Seamus in a bored tone, as he tried to get his rook to kick off Ron's knight. "Mason even nodded his head in our direction in acknoledgement, but I suppose you were so busy planning your next move you didn't even greet him."

"Anyway, Kit doesn't take Ancient Runes, so he probably has one free period before Transfiguration... I say, we'd better get going as well," Dean said as he noticed the time. Seamus groaned.

"But we haven't beat Ron yet!"

Ron grinned back half- heartedly. "It would take you longer than a _day _for you to beat me, if it ever happens at all," he teased.

xXx

During his free between Arithmancy and Transfiguration, Kit a.k.a Harry was spending his time in the library, alone, plotting.

In all honesty, he could have the wards ready by the end of this week, but he had been no closer to solving his mystery yet. He'd worked on the Hogwarts maps and sketches, his plans for Voldemort to lead the Death- Eater army and conquer Hogwarts all this while, he had neglected the real, secret reason he'd been so keen to enter the school. Revenge was certain- but he needed something else, which was a more pressing matter on his mind; truth.

The letter his supposed Imperiused self had written was still secure in his pocket. He'd meant to start building more trust of Ron Weasley towards him, as he knew that the redhead was close to _Potter, _which was essential to his plans. So far, it was his second day at Hogwarts, and he hadn't actually hatched a proper plan- but last night, he had found something that brought him closer to his goal than he dared imagine. Or perhaps, even farther away from the supposed simple truth of his being Imperiused.

The same singed parchment, same handwriting.

Only one difference.

Slightly different content.

After successfully sneaking out of the dormitories to confirm Weasley's story about the secret passageway to Hogsmeade, he'd returned past midnight to find Damien Potter still awake. Although he was under the Disillusionment Charm, doubtless the youngest Potter would find it suspicious if the portrait door simply swung open and close without anyone entering it. After pausing to listen and detect the presence of magical aura in the Common Room, something his father had trained him to do, Harry had felt Damien's aura leaving the Common Room towards the boys' dormitories.

It was only then when he felt safe to enter Gryffindor's Common Room.

He ran over a few of his plans in his mind to kill time, and wait for Potter to hopefully, be sleepy enough not to notice his invisible entry into the boys' dormitories. Harry had shut the drapes around his four poster bed beforehand while he pretended to get into bed after bidding Ron goodnight, and then slipping out immediately from the other side, exiting the Common Room when Thomas and Finnigan entered the portrait door past curfew.

They had doubled back for Thomas' Potions essay, which was missing from the Gryffindor's bag. It'd been quite simple, really, how things worked out.

Kit had avoided aiming at Dean during Defense, choosing more potential targets- like Hermione Granger. He purposely fired a dozen off- course spells, close enough- but they missed her altogether. When his quick succession of firing jinxes did not bring down the bushy- haired Gryffindor, other students' attention was diverted to firing at Hermione. The same happened to Finnigan, as well.

Dean, to be fair, was pretty good at dodging himself. In the end, Kit made sure Thomas emerged as the champion by shooting of five Stunners at Granger in one go, leaving her no space to duck. This drew more attention to Kit than he would have liked- for the rest of the Hogwarts students were horribly incapable at firing spells. The average could only perform one spell within ten seconds after utter concentration, and some just lowered their wands tiredly after a few simple hexes.

Anyway, Thomas emerged first in Group A, thus Dean was doubtless included into the conversation about Defense class at dinner. This gave Kit the opportunity of quietly Summoning the Gryffindor's essay. He placed a Disillusionment Charm on it before placing the essay under the Gryffindor table.

When they went back to the Common Room, Kit dropped a subtle comment about their heavy load of homework- within earshot of Thomas, of course. And when Dean started groaning and comparing their amount of homework, like Kit was pretty certain he would- Dean immediately noticed the absence of his essay. The loose buckle on his bag convinced him that he had dropped it at the Great Hall, too.

After pretending to get into bed, Kit estimated it was about time the Disillusionment Charm to wear off- he'd been careful on the strength of the spell. So he simply Disillusioned himself, nipped back to the Common Room, and when Thomas and Finnigan returned with the Potions essay, Kit slipped right out before the portrait door closed.

The perfect plan.

Except when he'd returned to the boys' dormitories and paused to check if Potter was still awake, feigning sleep- he found the familiar piece of singed parchment, addressed to Potter, by him.

Damien's splayed fingers on the mattress clearly indicated he was holding something, most probably the piece of parchment, before he fell asleep. But why? Had he, Harry, been kind to the youngest Potter under the influence of the Imperius Curse? Was that the reason the youngest Potter valued the piece of singed parchment?

And the most pressing question- _why _did Potter have the letter? Harry had quickly made a copy of it to study- and it was much to his building sense of unease that he discovered the handwriting as similar as the letter he found in his own room. It could have been photocopied for all it seemed.

The 'a' and 'i' spelling Damien Potter's name was smudged. The word 'sorry' in the second line was smudged. The letter 'g' in the last word of the fourth line was slightly italic, leaning towards the left.

The letters were completely identical, except for the fact that the one he found in his room was longer, and had more content.

Somewhere far off, the bell rang.

Kit slowly stood up, gathering his books before leaving the library for Transfiguration. He was determined to get to the bottom of the mystery, even if it meant he wouldn't be seeing his father for a longer time than planned.

**A/N: Sorry for the long wait. Please drop me a thought and tell me what you think about this chapter!**

**Take care,  
Epsilon Scorpii**


	10. Chapter 10: Hidden Secrets and Lies

**The Second Chance**

DISCLAIMER: I own nothing of J. K. Rowling and Kurinoone's universe. This story is written with permission from Kurinoone, and is written based on Kurinoone's fabulous, amazing, beyond awesome story- "The Darkness Within" (which was inspired by by Project Dark Overlord's wonderful story- "The Shattered Prophesy").

* * *

**Chapter 10: Hidden Secrets and Lies **

Transfiguration was just as tough as usual.

Professor McGonagall decided it was high time for them to skip straight to NEWT level, instead of dwelling fruitlessly on the basics- which hardly contributed to improving their Transfiguration skills. Something in which Hermione approved greatly. Ron, however, scowled through the entire lesson, his wand twitching irritably as he struggled with Life Transfiguration.

Hermione's saucer was varying from a hamster to a rabbit, but all of them were mute. Kit, on the other hand, was fighting from letting a smug expression blossom over his features. Instead, he decided to have Ron's face as a model. Copying the redhead, the transfer student scrunched up his face, frowned fiercely and knitted his eyebrows together as he stared resolutely at his saucer. However, he made no attempt to transfigure the saucer, just in case he let slip his true powers...

"Mason," Professor McGonagall strode over to Kit's desk, mirroring the frown on Kit and Ron's face.

"Yes, Professor?" Kit asked mildly, his facial polite mask slipping back in place.

"Why aren't you at least _trying _the spell?" she asked, her tone suggesting her annoyance. Kit mentally groaned.

There went his plan. Well, there was always a second strategy... improvisation.

"I'm trying to picture the _vision... _and,... um, get the right _picture, _and... the correct _feeling, _so I can get it on first try," he tried stuttering his excuse about, hoping that he had failed to live up to the 'cool and dangerous' impression he had made on the Hogwarts students; according to Ron Weasley. He definitely did not want attention drawn to himself, least of all the girls' swooning and giggling. Secretly, Harry was beginning to regret using Tom Riddle Jr's features as his glamour model. The young Dark Lord's features were a bit too handsome to blend into Hogwarts as a spy.

Not that he'd ever tell his father _that. _Goodness knows how huge Voldemort's ego already was.

Professor McGonagall's steely voice broke through his train of thoughts.

"It is alright to fail on your first try- I don't expect my students to succeed on every first attempt, either. Now, why don't you give it a go?" her tone was kind, but it brooked no argument.

"...N-no, I'm not sure if it's a good idea Professor," Kit gushed, hoping she wouldn't detect a hint of laughter, "I'll practise during my free time, and I'll get it right by the next lesson, don't worry."

Professor McGonagall frowned. "May I ask what is the matter?"

Kit hesitated a bit before hanging his head lower. "I-I'm a transfer student, Professor," he said, not making eye contact. "Everyone, including all the Hogwarts staff and students- expect the best from me. I want to prove that I'm actually good enough to enter Hogwarts- and _worthy _enough to be in Gryffindor House. I-... pardon me if I only want to let you see my best, ma'am."

Did he do the stuttering convincingly enough? Or did he just sound as though he were suffering from some kind of tongue disease?

The Transfiguration Professor's gaze rested on him for a moment, before she sighed and placed a hand gently on his shoulder. He didn't need to pretend shying away from her touch. Steeling himself to prevent flinching away from her, Kit looked up wearily.

"I'm sorry, Professor," he said in a meek, soft voice, his eyes downcast.

"Nonsense!" said Professor McGonagall firmly. "You have proven yourself to be an exceptional student; indeed I have heard many stories about your outstanding performance in Defense class yesterday, and Gryffindor House is proud to have you as a member. However, there is the issue of your confidence which you need to settle. And you will overcome your... internal demons, right now, in front of everyone. Do not give me the excuse of fearing what others may think of you. Perform the spell now."

_Issue of his confidence? Right. And here his father always told him he had too much self- esteem for his own good._

Pretending to hesitate again, Kit picked up his wand slowly, praying for droplets of convincing perspiration to form on his forehead. Then under his breath, he whispered a non- existent, modified incantation- so softly he was the only one that heard.

_Crack!_

The saucer became bits of scattered fur.

Merlin, that was really pathetic.

Kit looked up. Would it be appropriate to burst into tears now? A few anguished tears, perhaps?

_No! Of course not. He wanted his image to be one who was weak at magic, not a crybaby. How could he even consider that option!_

Kit took a deep breath as though to calm himself, allowing the expressionless mask to mould over his features. "I apologise, Professor," he said in his normal casual tone, but he was careful to add a hint of tremor behind it. "I... will try again."

Professor McGonagall nodded. "You do that," she told him. "Remember, confidence is essential in succeeding, no matter what goal you have in mind, Mason."

Kit inhaled and nodded imperceptibly. Ron gave him a sympathetic look, and Kit grimaced in return. His eyes shot over to the bushy haired Gryffindor, who was eyeing him uncertainly. As their gazes met, she offered him a small smile.

Did that mean she bought it? Or was she suspecting him; testing his every move?

Kit looked calculatingly at the Muggleborn witch, before returning an acknowledging nod of his own and turning away. But he felt Hermione's gaze boring holes in his back.

If Hermione Granger was trying to figure him out, he'd give her a false image to lead her to the wrong track. He did have the Heir of Slytherin as a father, and had grown up with the sly wizard since childhood. Granger may be smart; Kit could tell she was pretending to buy it through her small smiles and watchful gazes... but she'd never end up in Slytherin.

Smirking to himself, Kit pretended to concentrate on the furry pieces of saucer before him.

Let the games begin.

* * *

"So, Kit... today is officially the second day you've been having lessons at Hogwarts," Ron said as they made their way together to History of Magic after lunch. "What do you think about them?"

Kit's face hardened, and he pretended to stiffen visibly. He had been acting sick and zombie- like throughout their last few lessons, nearly resulting in a low sting from the Venomous Tentacula during Herbology. Kit thought it'd be ideal to let his 'friends' think the Professor's words during Transfiguration was a great blow to his confidence, and he was wallowing in uncertainity and had extremely low self- esteem. And all through that time, he could tell Hermione had her suspicious gaze on him. Hopefully, this 'weakness' he displayed would put the giggling girls off him too.

"I mean, um, except Transfiguration," the redhead immediately backtracked.

Kit mentally frowned.

Would someone care to enlighten him, what was the appropriate expression _now? _

It was more difficult for _him, _the Dark Prince to play a friend's role anyway, since he had no experience whatsoever. After all, he had had a very secluded childhood... and life, come to think of it. Not that he was complaining. If all the potential 'friends' he could get were from (quoting Snape) the legendary bunch of dunderheads, he'd rather suffer loneliness.

"I'm sorry," said Ron again, "I didn't think."

Kit allowed his features to soften somewhat, careful to gaze at Ron as he did so. "It's okay," he said hurriedly. "It's not your fault at all. If anything, I'm apalled by myself. Merlin, I was such a _weak _idiot," he pronounced the last two words contempteously. "Babbling like that, failing to cast a simple spell..."

He stared at the floor moodily, as Ron sighed in regret. Kit's insides soared with triumph.

The redhead was easier to fool.

"It wasn't a _simple _spell, as you put it," said Hermione, cutting across their conversation. "I struggled through it many times before I succeeded. You just need to be brave enough. To try," she added. "Don't let failure discourage you."

"I'm not discouraged," said Kit at once, pretending to fume at the thought.

"Yes you are," said Hermione resolutely. Kit guessed that she was one who would stand for what she believed in until the very end, despite the circumstances. Pretending to deny could lead her on his twisted track.

"No I am not," he shot back testily. "Professor McGonagall... she got me wrong. What's wrong with wanting only to display your best? If others see me when I'm at my _worst, _they'd think I was weak," He made his words sound hollow, unsure.

He expected Hermione to pounce on his uncertainity, and for a moment she looked as though she actually _would, _but she let it slip by, opting instead to change the topic abruptly. "We're going to be late for Professor Binns' class," she said in a neutral tone. "We'd better hurry."

Kit nodded and followed the redhead and bushy haired Gryffindor into the classroom. Granger was doubtless still analyzing his actions; she would observe him longer before drawing a conclusion... although Kit had obligingly laid down an answer for her. She was still searching for secondary confirmation; proof. His frequent change in moods; letting down his masks, then bringing them up again- was arousing slight suspicion from the bright witch. In other words, she wasn't going to trust him until she discovered his true character.

Smart girl.

* * *

Dinner approached quickly.

Although he had only been at Hogwarts for three days, Kit felt as though he had coped with this new environment pretty well; it was like the huge castle seemed _familiar _to him. Ron had taken him on a small tour around the school only once, but Kit managed to remember every single route and path to get to the required destinations. It probably was due to the fact that he had been here last year, under the Imperius Curse.

He may not have any memories regarding what he had done, but his body seemed to remember the way around... which was odd. Technically, if someone performed tight- rope walking under _Imperio, _said person would probably fall to death seconds after he attempted the move without the influence of the Unforgivable Curse.

As he pondered over the question, Kit felt a familiar rush of blinding fury towards Albus Dumbledore- and it definitely did not help by the fact that the old, wizened Muggle- loving man was currently seated mere _metres _away, at the staff's table. Kit's grip tightened visibly on his wand, and it took all of his Slytherin willpower and ambition to overcome his Gryffindor brawn.

Now was definitely not the time for revenge. He'd ruin his chance and Voldemort's plans in the process, not to mention earn himself a place in Azkaban for no reason at all.

Not that he'd ever end up in that jail; Kit was confident he would be able to escape before the dismal Ministry managed to apprehend him. But still, no point in acting rashly. He would be an utter fool to do so...

"Kit? Kit, are you alright?"

Weasley, _again. _Kit fought his anger, praying for his expressionless mask to slip back in place. "Fine," he replied shortly.

It would have to suffice. At that blind moment of anger, Kit didn't think he could draw out masks or polite form of speeches around the Gryffindor 'friends'. He's sooner explode before he got around to-

Ron took an unconscious step backwards, before peering closer at Kit. Feeling slightly alarmed that he'd let his true emotions show, Kit immediately snapped open his eyes.

"What?" he said sharply, a tad self- consciously so.

Ron plastered a smile on his face, but Kit could tell it was slightly forced. "I- for a moment, I thought under the trick of light- your eyes..."

Kit had a very bad feeling about this. His heart was hammering slightly louder than usual in his ribcage. "What about my eyes?" he tried sounding surprised, raising his eyebrows to enhance the convincing expression.

"They- well, darkened a bit. Oh never mind, just my imagination," Ron now seemed to be firm in his belief. He gestured for Kit to take the seat on his right, and Kit did so obligingly, noting with some relief and wariness that Granger had been absorbed in her book, and had missed the entire conversation between him and the redhead.

"You must be really hungry, huh?" Ron continued, starting to heap steak on his plate. "I'm ravenous. Yesterday it was Defense, today it's Herbology. All this dodging and ducking business is really tiring."

Ron looked at Kit, as though expecting a reaction. Feeling slightly startled, Kit didn't know what else to do except agree and offer a synonym. "Yes, totally energy consuming," he went along, feeling both proud and apalled at his comeback.

The redhead grinned. "I was going to ask you if you wanted the lamb chop actually,- I can pass it over to you if you like. It's really good- one of my favorites among Hogwarts' dishes."

Thinking it'd be impolite and unfriendly to refuse, Kit accepted the huge eight chunks of lamb with as much grace as he could master. Ron then added generous amounts of mashed potatoes and gravy to Kit's plate, plus two German sausages, before telling him in a nonchalant way- as though the stack of food before him was a completely reasonable in amount, not a huge horrifying and repulsing brown mountain- "There you go. Eat up, it's really good!"

Kit stared at his dinner plate, feeling his appetite vanishing to the bottom of his stomach. He'd rather drink ten bottles of Nutritious Potions than eat the entire... mountain before him. The pile of food now resembled an ugly mound of something, quite possibly a monster from the Muggle world's cartoon graphics.

"Hey Ron."

Kit stared with a sinking feeling as the youngest Potter bounded over and sat himself across the redhead. But still, Potter was imperative in his plans... although tolerating his presence was nothing short of excruciating. Damien's resemblence to James Potter might be less pronounced than _his, _but that didn't change the fact that watching Potter Junior's features made acid bubble in his stomach.

Damien eyed the pile of food before Kit with amusement. "Your friend is eating quite a lot today," he remarked to his redheaded friend. "Is he taking after you, now? Or maybe _you _are taking after your mum- you're trying to fatten Mason up."

Kit felt this speech nothing short of _excruciatingly annoying. _Before he managed to retort, however, Damien's gaze and met his irritable ones. "It's okay really," began Damien in a joyful tone. "Fattening up is actually a good idea for you."

The Dark Prince, or what he had to remind himself- the _harmless new _transfer student had to bite his tongue to prevent violent curses from leaving his mouth. It wasn't like Potter was provoking him, Potter was merely joking, he couldn't- wouldn't- be angry, or his apparent dislike for Potter would be discovered, his cover may threaten to fall apart- he had to keep a cool head.

"No it is not."

Despite what he told himself, Kit felt an irresistible urge to retort back with a frosty tone. But he had successfully managed a comeback that didn't sound offensive or display any signs of anger... he hadn't drawn suspicion.

Though he still hated himself for coming up with such a lousy retort.

"Yes it is, going on diet is deteriorates your health conditions," Potter just _had _to insist, an infrutiating smile in place. Oh, how he _hated _Potters... "Truthfully, you're a bit on the scrawny side. I suppose, as the Patils say, you're muscular enough, but a bit too tall, which unbalances the body. You may find it easier to trip over than the average teenager. The wind outside is pretty strong too, you really don't want to be blown off your feet."

Kit dropped his fork and closed his eyes, not trusting his eyes to _not _turn a rapid black. He casted another glamour non- verbally, hoping that it would suffice... before Potter's annoying smile swam into vision, not unlike the vicious, half- mischievious smile that lit up the corners of James Potter's mouth, before he raised the whip, to bring down on his son's back again-

"But not that the Patils and the other girls would mind, though," Damien continued, as though blissfully unaware of the others' anger. "If you were really blown off your feet, they'd come running to catch you and sweep you into their arms,- unless they can't support your weight, no offense meant- like the Muggle cartoon Disney princess stories. Oh sorry, it was supposed to be the other way round- the prince isn't supposed to blown off his feet. Never mind, we'll just have a different Wizarding World version-"

"Are you trying to annoy me on purpose?" snapped Kit, trying not to let more violent/vulgar words leave his mouth. He'd still like an answer from Potter, though his mind was already supplying him with one- _obviously._

"No," Damien said at once.

Liar.

"I was merely trying to have our first _friendly _conversation," the youngest Potter continued.

Kit felt the urge to smirk. "What, don't tell me you're still sour over getting caught talking to your snowy?"

Damien scowled. Triumph soared in Kit- at least he wasn't the only irritated one now.

"Well, what's so annoying about the Patils sighing sentimentally all about you?" Damien went on, determined to annoy the elder Gryffindor. "I was merely stating the facts, with some additional imagination..."

"Nothing, besides your voice?" Kit remarked snidely.

"Well, I prefer mine over yours," Damien retorted. "The sound of your voice _grates _on my nerves."

This part wasn't exactly true. But the youngest Potter pretended it was.

"Can you believe it, Potter? I actually feel the same way about you," Kit sneered.

"Oh yeah?" Damien didn't show any sign of backing down.

"Why don't we come to a mutual agreement," said Kit, smiling humorlessly. "From this day onwards-"

"That would be pretty sudden," Damien said, looking at Kit in bewilderment. "Honestly."

Kit frowned. "Do you have any idea about what I was going to say, before you rudely interrupted?"

"Well, you said 'mutual agreement'," said Damien, as though explaining the obvious. "I assume you were going to say something along the lines of 'let's start over' or be friends or something like that."

Kit nearly smacked his forehead in demonstration of his frustration. "I was going to say' from this day onwards, you won't bother me and I won't irritate you," he said through gritted teeth.

"Oh," said Damien.

"Forget it, I take that back," Kit said abruptly, forcing himself to remember his mission. He needed Damien Potter to answer his questions!

"I know what you're going to say now," Damien interrupted again. "You're going to state 'From this day onwards, you won't take the slightest notice of me, and I will do the same- a very beneficial agreement on your behalf, I suppose. But no, for the mere sake of irritating you, I disagree."

Kit didn't know whether to be extremely annoyed at the statement or be relieved that his mission was safe, for the moment. Damien took Kit's silence as an opportunity to plunge on.

"Have I ever mentioned that annoying others is a favorite pastime of mine? It's my natural gift. A very useful trait in life, sometimes," Damien continued, putting on a flashy smile to irritate the elder Gryffindor.

"I don't doubt it," muttered Kit darkly, shoving away his dinner.

Ron stared at the two, speechless; Kit however, got to his feet abruptly.

"See you around then," he said to Ron, before turning to leave.

"I'll see you around too!" said Damien cheerfully, doubtless to prod the transfer student further.

"I hope not," Kit muttered, rolling his eyes before walking out of the Hall, ignoring the chatters behind him, and trying not to imagine Potter's smug expression... a pretty difficult feat.

* * *

Once safely in his dormitory, Harry flopped onto his four poster bed, his mind working furiously. Irritation was definitely a worse emotion to experience than anger. The thing about annoyance was that it crept right under your skin, seeped into your every pore and made you _itch _to do something, anything, however small, to bring _negative effects _onto the person who caused it. Such as now. All Harry could think of doing was to make Damien Potter's infrutiating smiles and irritating voice come to a frosty _halt!_

Now that sounded childish. He needed Potter's trust; that was the only way he would be finding his answers.

The people who seriously deserved revenge would be dealt with later- such as Albus Dumbledore and James Potter. Merlin, how he wanted to _gauge _the Muggle- loving fool's twinkling eyes so that he could read, be it minds or books, no more! Not to mention his biological, filthy ancestry- _Potter- _feigning cares and smiles in society, the Wizarding World's top Auror, a hero! But none knew what that cruel man did behind his door, to his own _son-_

Harry forced himself to clear his mind, subconsciously applying Occlumency barriers. Wallowing in hatred would bring him nowhere his goals. He needed to plot, strategize. Think calmly like a Slytherin-

If only he were placed in Slytherin! He was already marked by the Heir of Salazar himself, for goodness' sake! But that stupid, idiotic, ageing Sorting Hat just decided to make up its own twisted mind and dump him with the nightmarish pride of lions. Harry had recently decided that 'ageing' was a cutting jibe, as Voldemort always reacted badly to that adjective if applied to him.

He hadn't even expected this outrageous outcome- it practically threw his first step in planning into wrong light. The Gryffindors had reacted weirdly- some of them, at any rate- that someone who had associated with Slytherins amiably on the Hogwarts Express would be Sorted into the completely opposite House.

Bloody Sorting Hat! If his father ever found out, Voldemort'd have a field day with this.

- and there went his calm thinking. Rationalize! What was his main priority?

The wards. Right. He had been allowed two weeks' time to accomplish his mission before Voldemort promised to storm into Hogwarts and snatch his son back. Harry had wisely pointed out that the main reason he was sent to Hogwarts was to break down the wards, so even if Voldemort _did _turn up, all he could do would be brandish his stick, scream at his Death- Eaters and demand entry outside the barriers. His father, however, had promised to break him out of the school by any means- and he had an oddly familiar glint in his eye as he said that, making Harry unsure whether to doubt Voldemort's words or not.

The thought of his father somehow managed to calm Harry a bit. Once he got past the irritating quality of his father's protectivenes and paranoia, Harry thought he could get used to it.

Back to work.

So. The combination of blood and magic. Harry would have expected no less from himself. According to the detailed descriptions and plans he found in his room, the Hogwarts barrier would have four chosen Secret Keepers to guard its magic and secrecy.

The first would, most probably, be Albus Dumbledore- the Head of the Order itself. The second Secret Keeper, again, would most probably be Minerva McGonagall- Order member and Deputy at Hogwarts.

The third was unknown. Presumably one of the Hogwarts staff members. And the fourth... someone he'd never yet thought to suspect.

Damien Potter.

Although there was no confirmation in his Imperiused self's letter to the youngest Potter whether Damien had actually accepted Dumbledore's offer, Harry was pretty certain that he was right. Damien Potter was a _Gryffindor, _after all.

'_So are you' _an unhelpful voice at the back of his head added. Harry ignored it completely. He had originally planned to nip down to the One- Eyed- Witch's portrait passageway to test the barrier's strength that night. He wanted to know if he could break through it. According to the detailed theory he obtained from the notes he found on his table back at Riddle Manor, if the intruder indeed had supernatural, sufficient magic to break through the wards, he would most probably come through unharmed.

And in Harry's mind, he didn't doubt his supernatural magic. Especially not after he had turned seventeen.

As he got up to prepare for his night venture, Harry froze as he heard voices echoing up from the Common Room. Dinner wasn't finished in ten minutes yet. Who else had decided to retire for the night early?

Then Weasley boy and Potter's voices reached the staircase to the boys' dormitory. Harry swiftly closed the drapes around his bed and Disillusioned himself. His pillows and blanket were arranged as if someone was lying under the covers, too.

"...was certain I was holding it before falling asleep last night," Potter was saying.

"Do you mean to tell me _Harry _wrote you a letter from Riddle Manor before he died that night?" Weasley's voice was incredulous.

"I told you, Hedwig delivered the letter to me," Damien sounded rather impatient. "I was alone at Potter Manor then. I had trained her to well... fly at Harry the moment he turned seventeen. It was supposed to be his birthday present." A slight pause.

Harry stared at the two approaching figures, dumbstruck. Hedwig. Potter's snowy owl. Harry flashed back to the time he found three unexplained white feathers tucked neatly under his ninja blades. Could it possibly be-?

"But what did the letter say?" Ron was persistent.

There was another pause, before Potter replied. "Nothing much," he said, "Just him telling me to stay safe, and he was sorry, and all that." Potter's voice sounded unnaturally strained, unlike the joking tone he had heard back at dinner.

Weasley fell silent, before saying softly, "I'm sorry too. Harry was a good friend... once you get past the mental bit."

Potter laughed a bit at that.

Harry's mind was reeling. Friend? Were the two lying, or was his Imperiused self actually friends with Ron Weasley, a good brother to Damien Potter? But why would the two lie about it, when there was clearly no one- except his unnoticed self- that was listening in to their conversation? He felt sick.

More silence followed after that, before he heard someone rummaging around a trunk, possibly. Harry sneaked out quietly behind the drapes and watched as Damien Potter broke into a smile as he retrieved something. The singed parchment.

"I found it!" he exclaimed triumphantly. "It was just folded neatly in the Marauders' Map- I forgot to check. It must've slipped in there."

Harry stared at the old piece of blank parchment which Damien Potter referred to as the 'Map'. Was that actually a magical Map in disguise? He'd thought it was only a piece of parchment when he slid the singed parchment back into Potter's bag. Could it possibly be the Map of Hogwarts? That would save Harry a lot of trouble. Not to mention if it was magical...

Harry eyed the piece of parchment as Damien kept it back safely into his bag.

He'd just need to steal it to see for himself.

**A/N: Thanks for reviewing the last chapter! Here's my promised update. It's not as long as the others, though... only 5,000 words plus plus. Anyway, hope you enjoyed it, and please drop me a thought!**

**Take care,  
Epsilon Scorpii**


	11. Chapter 11: The Marauders' Map

**The Second Chance**

DISCLAIMER: I own nothing of J. K. Rowling and Kurinoone's universe. This story is written with permission from Kurinoone, and is based on Kurinoone's fabulous, beyond awesome story- "The Darkness Within" (which was inspired by Project Dark Overlord's wonderful story- "The Shattered Prophesy").

* * *

**Chapter 11: The Marauders' Map**

Harry crept down the dark corridors, his Disillusionment Charm held in place. Even as he moved stealthily in the darkness, his mind was reeling about all he had just found out. Who would have thought, a single conversation between Weasley and Potter would be so informative. Harry had also caught the detail of 'Potter Manor', which meant that the Potters had moved from Godric's Hollow, probably after he ran away.

And what of the 'Marauder's Map'? What map was it? Was it magical? Who else knew about it?

Not to mention the most pressing question- _how _to steal the Map? It would be relatively easy to do so, but he didn't want to raise suspicions when Potter noticed the Map missing. The best he could do would be to nip the Map for a quick glance before returning it to its original position before Potter noticed a thing. Hopefully, he'd manage it tonight.

His occupied mind soon led Harry to the familiar One- Eyed- Witch portrait. He flicked his wand casually, and the passageway was revealed. Somewhere in the distance, a red light pulsed- signalling the end of the barrier. Harry closed the door behind him and concentrated on the magic.

Slowly, he closed in the flickering red light, feeling its magic radiating with strong force. Harry secretly marvelled at the barrier's strength. It was strong... but Harry was determined not to let it take him down. Again, in theory, the weaker the Secret Keepers, the less powerful the barrier. Harry wasn't intent on killing Potter in his sleep- even though he was an insufferable brat- but that didn't meant he'd harbour any guilt from weakening the other's powers. Just a simple spell would do.

After concentrating on the barrier's magic flow for a while, Harry decided to make his way back to the dormitory and try his luck with the Map.

Perhaps it could be of some help...

xXx

The drapes fluttered slightly as Harry allowed himself to enter.

The youngest Potter didn't stir; too deeply in slumber was he. Smirking slightly to himself, Harry gently unfastened the lock on Potter's bag, careful to check for booby traps as he did so. But the Gryffindors proved themselves just as predictably trusting and idiotic. Within seconds of rifling, Harry had found the old piece of parchment, detecting the small flickers of magic with confirmed it was the Map.

It was unbelievably easy. Walking silently so as not to wake the others, Harry closed the drapes around his four poster bed, ducked under the blanket and lit his wand non-verbally. He gave the Map a tap with his wand... and insults started to blossom all over the parchment.

* * *

The next morning found Ginny waking early, something she rarely ever did. She hadn't had much sleep lately, not since she returned to Hogwarts. Memories of one green- eyed boy haunted the corridors as she walked, and her unusual quiet self had drawn less company than usual. She rarely approached others for conversation, lost her wild laughter... she viewed the world as black and white.

It was like losing Harry all over again. There were brief times at the Burrow when she felt whole again; short moments when she fought her annoyance and amusement when Percy prattled off about his work or 'former glory' in Hogwarts, as Ron put it. While Percy had never been great company, nor popular, it was surprising how he could draw one of one's shell.

But Percy was no longer at Hogwarts; and youngest Weasley felt disappointed that she wouldn't even be hearing from him, nor the jokes Fred and George played, until term was over, until she returned to the Burrow. Her home. Home, where Bill and Charlie's quiet sympathy reached her. Home, where her mother fed them with unconditional love, care and food. Home, where her life had started, where she learnt to play, prank, laugh, live, before her world was overturned by a fairytale prince with a nightmarish ending.

Sometimes she'd wonder how Ron was coping, how did the Potters get over Harry's death? Did they feel as painful as she was? Doubtless they did, but why didn't it seem so? Damien could laugh, could smile... she never saw him cry, except for the time when they first received news at the Burrow. Was he hurt, like her? Was Ron, the ever obtuse, clumsy brother upset as well?

Ginny shook herself out of her daze, briefly annoyed with herself for thinking useless thoughts. She was back at Hogwarts! She ought to be excited- there were many things to do to put her out of her misery- she could just leave those nightmares behind, distract herself with something else.

Like breakfast.

Deciding to rise early, Ginny quickly dressed up and trudged down the familiar staircase to the Common Room.

When she finally arrived at the Great Hall, it was to her surprise to notice that the Gryffindor table was already occupied by one student- Kit Mason. His blue eyes were scanning a thick book quickly, leaving the little amount of food on his plate untouched. Ginny was surprised. It was only seven fifteen in the morning, and already he was up and reading. He made Hermione look lazy.

Well, then again, maybe not.

Ginny approached the boy slowly, then slid into the seat in front of him. Azure eyes flicked up from the book and rested on her face, before he gave her a small smile.

"Hey, good morning," Ginny said to him.

"Same to you," Kit said politely, his eyes leaving his book once more before he turned his attention back to the dusty volume again. Ginny tilted her head sideways to read the cover. It wrote _'Transfiguration Grade Seven'. _It seemed as though she had found a male version of Hermione.

"Are you reading in advance?" she asked Kit, trying to strike up a conversation.

Kit nodded shortly. "Yes. I face... problems, in this particular subject."

"High- five here," Ginny grinned, recalling yesterday's thorny cushion. "That subject's a real pain."

The Gryffindor transfer student merely flashed her another smile before helping himself to some soup. His eyes were still reading the book greedily. Ginny guessed that Kit was merely glancing through the paragraphs, for he turned the pages at an abnormally fast rate.

"So... what do you think of Hogwarts?" Ginny said, before hurriedly backtracking, "Um, you don't need to answer if you're busy reading."

Okay, that was lame.

But Kit didn't disregard her question. Quite on the contrary, in fact. He actually put down his book to listen to her. Ginny was quietly surprised and pleased at his reaction.

"The classes are quite advanced," he said, his fingers trailing a pattern over the cover of his book unconsciously. "The professors teach well enough, I suppose, except for- pardon me- Professor Binns' class, which I find rather dull."

"Rather dull?" repeated Ginny, looking amused. "Did you really just mean '_rather' _dull?"

"I'm sorry, I take it back," Kit started, back Ginny laughed.

"It's okay, that's the general opinion of the student population at Hogwarts," she said. "I was just playing with you, really."

"I was going to correct my description of History class into 'excruciatingly boring' before you interrupted," Kit smirked at her.

A strange flutter errupted in Ginny as she noticed the painful, indiscernably familiar expression appear on the Gryffindor transfer student. Kit cocked his head to one side as he studied Ginny's sudden change in demeanor.

"You're not actually upset about my adjectives of Professor Binns' class, are you?"

Ginny laughed a bit a that. "No, of course not, idiot."

Kit raised an eyebrow at the last word.

The youngest Weasley merely grinned. "I hope you don't mind, but I tend to throw insults around frequently. I find this activity fun. Sorry if it offends you."

"I'm kind of used to it. My father always does that, just that his insults are more subtle," Kit told her. "If any, I should be the one apologising... what was it I said that upset you?"

Ginny shook her head. "It wasn't you," she said softly, staring at her goblet. For a long moment she was quiet, before she added, "You just reminded me of someone I knew."

Kit didn't say anything for quite some time, but Ginny felt as though his eyes never left her.

"Okay," she said resolutely to get over the awkward moment. Trust herself to ruin a perfect conversation with a new transfer student early in the morning! "Ignore me when I broadcast my stupid thoughts."

"I'd prefer to listen when you broadcast your so- called stupid thoughts," said Kit, his playful smirk still in place.

"Why?" she asked, confused.

"It would be entertaining?" offered Kit.

"Oh really," said Ginny, rolling her eyes. "I, unlike my brother Ron, can read sarcarsm, you know."

"Well, you read me wrongly," the elder Gryffindor said.

Ginny smiled, feeling warmth seep through her cold figure. "Alright then. Thanks for the offer."

Kit shrugged. "No problem," he said.

The sun had risen by now. Shafts of brilliant, colorful lights filtered in through the floor- to - ceiling windows, bathing the Great Hall in a majestic glow. Ginny sat quietly, drinking in the scene, enjoying the comfortable heat the great orb of fire provided.

Presently, Kit spoke up again.

"I've been thinking..." he started, and he smiled slightly as Ginny looked up at him, expectant. "What should I call you?"

Ginny was surprised by his question. "Um... Ginny? Just like everyone else. Nobody calls me 'Ginevra', though it's my real name."

"So which would you prefer?" he asked, half- a smirk still playing on his lips.

"Um... Ginny would be nice. 'Ginevra' sounds too formal. My mum only calls me 'Ginevra' when I create trouble," the youngest Weasley replied with a smile.

"Ginny it is then," Kit said, nodding his head. "So... Ginny, do you know any pranksters in this school?"

Ginny was surprised by his question. "Yeah sure. But why would you want to know?"

Kit's face seemed to light up and the mention of pranks. Indeed, Ginny could have sworn she saw a glint his his eyes. "My old school was perfectly dull," he said in response. "I was hoping that Hogwarts would be better. Preferably with pranksters to liven up the day. So, who are the most well- known ones?"

Ginny frowned as she pondered over the questions. "Plenty," she said. "As of right now, Damien and Ron are the only ones left in the school, I think. I only help occassionally. Before that, my brothers Fred and George were the most popular pranksters. You should've met them- they were brilliant. Pity they've graduated. They were twins, by the way."

Kit seemed surprised. "It seems like your closest family and friends are all pranksters," he said. "But Damien Potter... a prankster? He doesn't really look it."

The youngest Weasley smiled at the thought. "I forgot to mention something- his father, James Potter, is the greatest legendary prankster Hogwarts has ever had. Mr. Potter would never have forgiven Damien if his son _wasn't _a prankster."

Kit's eyes seemed to darken at the mention of James Potter, but he kept up a surprised expression. "Really? I never knew that."

Ginny nodded. "Mr. Potter had a group of friends- they were best pranksters ever, and they called themselves the Marauders."

Kit had to fight the triumphant grin from playing on his lips. He was right.

"The Marauders consisted of four people," she continued, taking courage from Kit's interest in their conversation. "Mr. Potter is called Prongs in their group. Sirius Black, Damien's uncle- also one of the top Aurors, and Mr. Potter's best friend... he's called Padfoot. The third member is Remus Lupin, also a great friend of theirs... and the last one," she faltered a bit at that. "Was Peter Pettigrew, namely... Wormtail."

"Was?" Kit asked. "He died?"

Ginny nodded uncomfortably. "Yes, only last year."

"That's a pity," Kit offered, wondering how to steer the conversation towards the Marauders' Map. By looking at the insults blossoming all over the Map when he tried to reveal its secrets, he had deduced that the Map was probably a product of a prankster. So far, he was proved correct.

"It wasn't," Ginny said, suddenly cold.

Kit didn't pursue the subject. "What sort of pranks did the Marauders pull?" he asked.

Ginny looked relieved at the turn of conversation. "Pretty cool stuff, according to Fred and George." She shrugged. "They used to play all sorts of jokes on the staff as well, according to Damien. There was a time they made Professor Flitwick's voice deep and croaky..."

Kit quirked an encouraging smile. "Wait, I think Ron mentioned something to me before- the Marauders' Map, was it? Was the Map created by the Marauders?"

The youngest Weasley was surprised. "Ron told you that? Well, I suppose there's no harm in telling you, then. Yes, the Marauders made the Map. Fred and George found it back in their Third- Year... they nicked it from Filch's office. The Map got confiscated directly before the Marauders graduated, you see."

"But why would they need a Map?" Kit reasoned. "They already know their way around Hogwarts."

"It's not only a normal Map of Hogwarts," Ginny corrected him, unaware that she had just confirmed Kit's theory that it indeed _was _a map of Hogwarts- "It's magical. The Map shows every single person in Hogwarts at their respective current locations. At the most brilliant thing is, the map never lies. I can fool others with a false idenitity, but my real name will still appear on the Map."

Kit's eyes snapped to her, suddenly alert; but his face was impassive as usual. "They say that you need to be advanced in magic to activate the Map," he carried on, trying not to look too interested. "Otherwise all you'll see is a blank piece of old parchment."

Ginny laughed. "Ron told you that? Well, that's just so typical of him. No, all you need is the password."

"Password?" Kit asked.

"Yeah. Sorry, I can't tell you what it is... confidentiality and all that," Ginny said. "It belongs to Damien. You're only allowed in the secret if Damien agrees to tell."

Kit smiled, but it was cold, unlike before. "Never mind," he said. Then he noticed Dean Thomas walking into the Great Hall, yawning. The newcomer immediately grinned and waved at Ginny as he approached the Gryffindor table. Ginny scowled.

"I really don't know why he always does that nowadays," she said, putting down her cup of tea.

Kit got up to leave, slinging his bag casually over his shoulder as he did so. Ginny looked up.

"You're leaving already?" she asked.

Kit nodded. "I'll see you around, Ginny," he told her with a curt nod, before brushing past Dean as he exited the Great Hall once more.

* * *

That mornings' conversation settled it. The quest of getting the Marauders' Map was not optional anymore- it was compulsory. His mission would be torn to shreds if Damien Potter decided to use it and noticed his real name 'Harry Potter' strolling around undercover with Kit Mason's face. He couldn't afford to deal with the barriers now, not yet. Anyway, the barriers were strong, but Harry was reasonably confident that he could blast through it, providing he had his full power at disposal when he got around to it.

Besides that, the Map would virtually be _invaluable _if he could get his hands on it. He could ensure his not getting caught, and when the Death- Eaters stormed Hogwarts, he could check if everyone was in position effectively. As much as he loathed to admit it, the Marauders were genii.

But how was he supposed to get the Map? What was the password? He could easily steal it- Potter was not careful with his possessions- but now that he had asked Ginny about the Marauders' Map, suspicion would be cast upon him if the Map were to go missing.

Maybe he could get a Professor to confiscate it? Or perchance, the caretaker- Filch would be a more cooperating and oblivious as well...

Harry quirked a small smile. He just needed to have a few words with someone for his plans to take place...

* * *

Fate really had a sense of humor.

The Seventh- Year students were working on Disillusionment Charms that day. It was the second way of decreasing your chances of being hit by a Dark Curse, according to Professor Wynter, which many heartily approved of. At least, it was better than dodging around in the constant fear of being cursed by your fellow students.

They were allowed to use their wands, but Professor Wynter promised that they would have to start learning to perform the charm wandlessly by the next lesson. However, that wasn't to say that Defense class for that day was easy. Professor Wynter, much to their dismay, would cast jinxes at those who did not perform the charm properly. All you needed to let slip was one slight shimmer, and the professor would round on you, firing curses.

Ron swore aloud as he crashed to the floor for the fifth time.

"Up, Weasley," Professor Wynter commanded at once. "Your Charm is not strong enough. I detect a shimmer."

Even Hermione got slammed into a wall twice for letting her concentration slip. Of course, Professor Wynter did provide a Cushioning Charm to lessen the impact, but it still came as a nasty shock.

At the end of the lesson, Parvati Patil was clutching at her heart, crying slightly from fright and shock. She had been knocked down the most times by the Professor for not paying full attention and allowing her charm to flicker a time too many. Ron was rubbing his forehead ruefully as he, Hermione and Kit made their way out of the classroom together.

"That Professor's going to be the death of me," the redhead groaned. "It's barely the first week of school, and he's giving us this work overload!"

"You were really good," Hermione told Kit as they descended the stairs together. "You didn't even get hit once!"

Kit shrugged. "I wasn't the only one."

"Well, Neville's a different case- he's been specially trained by Professor Dumbledore himself. He doesn't count!" Ron always made his dislike for anyone apparent. Kit found that a very foolish but useful trait of the Gryffindor.

"Specially trained?" Kit asked. "Why for?"

"Ah... Professor Dumbledore thought that Longbottom would be the 'Chosen One' after Harry- well, after Harry Potter supposedly died seventeen years ago. A very long story."

Kit nodded disinterestedly; his mind already wandering, back to his plan...

* * *

There were of course, many undercover agents in Hogwarts- most of them from Slytherin, all sons of Voldemort's Inner Circle Death- Eaters. None of them except one, however, knew that Kit Mason was actually the Dark Lord's right- hand, nor did they know that Mason was undercover, either. Only Rosier Jr. knew the truth, and he was trusted not to under any circumstances, reveal the truth.

Rosier Jr. was currently in the same year as Damien Potter, and he was also the brightest junior Death- Eater of his age (apart from Draco Malfoy, ex- Death- Eater), which effectively helped him on his way to become the leader of all the junior Death- Eaters in Hogwarts. Only Rosier Jr. was allowed to meet Kit Mason, but only when the Gryffindor ordered it so.

That night before dinner, Kit met up with the fourth- year boy at a darkened section of the library. Rosier Jr. could tell that powerful wards were already placed around them, and even so, Mason felt the need of placing a Disillusionment Charm around himself. Rosier Jr. was facing a bookshelf, his back turned to whomever that happened to walk by. If anyone did indeed spot him, they would assume that Rosier Jr. was merely looking for a Potions book.

"Y-You called me, sir?" the younger boy whispered. This was the first meeting between them both.

Kit silently frowned. Trust Lucius to tell the boy to refer to him as 'sir'. But he shrugged the matter aside, it wasn't like it mattered. At least it was a form of respect, and it wasn't as obnoxious as 'Dark Prince'.

"Were you followed?" a disembodied voice asked Rosier Jr.

The boy shook his head firmly. "No, sir," he sounded confident. "What is it I have to do, sir?"

Kit smirked. "It's fairly simple. Provoke Damien Potter."

* * *

The Gryffindor transfer student was still wearing the Disillusionment Charm as he slipped into the Common Room behind one Jimmy Peakes. Immediately, he caught sight of the familiar redheaded girl, protesting loudly in the far corner of the room.

There was a crowd around her, all cheering the same thing, "Quidditch tryouts! Quidditch tryouts!"

"You are all ridiculous!" spluttered Ginny, voicing Kit's thoughts. "It's only the first week. Why hurry?"

"Then when are we having tryouts?" whined Seamus, his arm slung around his best friend, Dean. "Come on, I'm itching for a flight. And according to the new rules, the Quidditch Pitch is now off limits to whomever that does not book the pitch first."

"I'm on it, I'm on it, okay?" Ginny sounded irritated. "I've already booked the Pitch. Tryouts will be held next Wednesday before breakfast. Happy?"

A loud cheer errupted in the Common Room, and Kit chose the moment to sneak up into the Boys' Dormitories. Damien Potter's bag was lying, exposed, on the younger boy's four poster bed. Kit drew the drapes half- close before prying into Potter's bag. Bottles of ink, quills, fresh parchment... the Marauders' Map.

A minute later, Kit watched quietly as Damien Potter re- emerged from the washroom and slung his bag over his shoulder before leaving for the Common Room.

When Ron and Damien descended to the Great Hall for dinner, talking animatedly about Quidditch again, Kit was already sitting at his usual spot. Hermione was trailing behind the pair, looking bored, books under her arm as usual. When the Head Boy spotted Kit, he waved at the transfer student cheerily and dropped into his customary seat beside Kit. Damien quirked a sarcastically pleasant smile as he sat across Kit again, like he did the day before.

"Good evening, Disney Prince," the younger boy greeted.

Kit pursed his lips. He was _not _going to let the boy annoy him. But at the same time, he cringed inwardly at the nickname. If it wasn't 'Dark Prince', then it was 'Disney Prince'. He never thought he'd admit it, but Kit preferred the former.

"Have some lamb chop?" Damien continued, heaping food onto his plate. "Steak? Gravy? Mashed potatoes?"

Kit took no notice of the boy, treating Potter as he would thin air. But Potter kept on grinning.

The huge mound of unappetizing ugly monster appeared on Damien's plate, and Kit felt his appetite vanish at the familiar sight. Damien purposely made an involuntary movement, as though he were going to place the plate before Kit, when the elder boy snapped,

"_Don't _give that to me."

Damien chuckled evilly. "Touche. I knew you couldn't ignore me, nobody can."

Stupid Potter. Insufferable brat. Idiotic grin. _Irritating _smi-

No, that wasn't the point. Kit wasn't easily annoyed. Nope, Kit was perfectly cool, calm and collected.

"Anyway, it's not nice to decline or ignore my courtesies," Damien continued. "Especially when I was meaning well. It's impolite to reject good intentions; everyone knows that."

Kit put on a falsely sweet smile. "I apologise, Damien Potter... but hey, look! Your gravy is overflowing!"

His voice was overly dramatic.

Damien narrowed his eyes at the elder Gryffindor. "I know this is your doing. Stop it!"

"Anything to save you!" Kit exclaimed, still in drama- mode. He raised his wand and pointed at Damien's plate.

The gravy vanished from Damien's plate. The youngest Potter regarded his food suspiciously, before rolling his eyes and taking a spoonful of mashed potatoes and stuffing it into his mouth.

The potatoes were rock hard- Kit had drained all liquid from Damien's plate. Damien opened his mouth furiously, and did the inevitable- he choked.

Kit wasn't dropping his drama- mode. "Oh no! Look at you! Have some pumpkin juice?"

Before Damien could react, Kit had lifted the jug and poured the orange liquid all over Damien's pile of food. Ron choked back his laughter as he watched the scene.

"OI!" bellowed Damien, overcoming the offensive lump of potato. "Don't _do _that!"

Kit's smile was as sweet as it was nasty at the same time. "It's not nice to reject my courtesies like that, especially when I was meaning well. That was most impertinent of you."

"Oh yeah?" the younger Gryffindor jabbed his wand at his ruined dinner, and the mess on his plate disappeared.

Kit nodded. "It's basic manners, really."

"Says who? You?" Damien shot back, irritated.

Kit feigned an innocent look. "Everyone knows that," he said in a perfect immitation of Damien's voice.

Ron, to the youngest Potter's immense irritation and dismay, clapped his hands in delight. "Well said, well said!" he chortled through his laughter, watching Damien's expression in obvious amusement.

Kit looked at the redhead, frowning slightly. It wasn't even funny. Then again, Ron found everything amusing.

The rest of dinner passed uneventfully. Dean had moved over and engaged Ron and Damien in a conversation about Quidditch and Hermione just kept on reading through her pile of books. Ginny was sitting at the other end of the table with a strange looking girl wearing radishes by her side. Kit averted his gaze to the Slytherin table.

Rosier Jr. caught his gaze but looked away calmly, so as not to give the game away. Kit felt the tiniest bit of pleasure at this. At least it told him that not all the students at Hogwarts were complete fools. Rosier Jr. would probably make a good Death- Eater.

Kit turned his attention back to his plate, his fork playing with the food on it. The main course disappeared a minute later, to be replaced by dessert. Kit wasn't enjoying his meal one bit. The lavish amount of food and lack of decorum the Gryffindors displayed effectively put him off dinner. But he pretended to eat a few spoonfuls of ice- cream all the same, trying to act as normal as he could possibly be.

Most of the staff had retired for the night, leaving only Professor Flitwick and Professor Sprout. Kit waited for another five minutes before getting up to exit the Great Hall.

"I'll be going first," he told Ron, tapping the redhead on the shoulder as he left. "Good night."

Ron looked pleasantly surprised- it was the first time Kit had done something this friendly before. "Yeah, sure, goodnight. I'll come up later."

Kit managed a smile in his direction, and smirked at Damien, before leaving the Hall. Now, hopefully Rosier Jr. would play his part well. Following the corridor Ron had brought him once on a tour before, Kit quickly made his way towards Filch's office. His luck held. Pressing his ear to the door, he could hear the caretaker wheezing inside.

Kit placed a Disillusionment Charm on himself, then waited for Filch to appear. He barely waited a few seconds before the doorknob twisted open, and the caretaker shuffled downstairs towards the Great Hall. So far, all according to plan.

As usual, Filch stood in the corridor, scowling as the students made their way to their Common Rooms. Kit could see Rosier Jr. talking to his fellow Slytherins- Nott, Crabbe, Goyle, Fowler... Voldemort's junior Death- Eaters. Potter was and Weasley were standing on the right of Rosier's gang. Again, as usual, Weasley and Potter were the last to leave the Hall, trailing behind everyone else.

That was when Rosier made his move. He pointed his wand stealthily at Potter's bag, using a non- verbal Cutting Hex. Immediately, a large seam appeared, ripping the material apart. Inkwells, quills and parchment tumbled out onto the floor, much to the pair of Gryffindors' horror.

"Oopsies, looks like Potty has an accident," sniggered Goyle as the Slytherins closed in. Nott stepped casually on the inkwell, causing Damien's stack of new parchment to be splattered with dark ink. His essays were effectively ruined as well. Only one piece of old parchment was not contaminated- there was a water resistant spell on it.

Rosier pretended to frown as he stepped down on the parchment with his ink- covered sole. Not a print was left behind on the brown paper. Then insults started to well up all over the old piece of parchment.

Potter cursed loudly and shoved two of the Slytherins away, his face displaying suppressed anger. Weasley, on the other hand, looked livid. Kit's eyes darted to where Filch was approaching.

"What's that parchment?" Nott said in a scared voice.

"Give that back!" snarled Damien.

"It's full of Dark Magic!" exclaimed Goyle in his loud, bullfrog voice. "Potter brought something _illegal!"_

"It's not Dark Magic you dolt! They're just insults meant for people like you!" shouted Ron, trying to levitate it back, but Rosier Jr's grip on it was firm. "Give it back _now!"_

"Why do you want it back so badly?" tautned Rosier, inspecting the parchment. "Is is precious?"

Filch arrived at the best possible time. "What the blazes is going on here? Detention, all of you! Duelling in corridors!"

"We weren't even duelling!" said Damien angrily.

Rosier's voice was louder than the Gryffindors. "Mr. Filch, sir! Damien Potter has something illegal!"

Filch's attention was caught. "Illegal?" he repeated. "Where?"

Damien and Ron protested loudly and furiously, but Rosier Jr. had already handed over the old parchment, which was still covered with insults. Familiar insults, to Filch at least.

The caretaker was livid. "Where did you get this? Detention, Mr. Potter!"

"Give it back to me, it's not illegal!" Damien tried to snatch it back, but no avail.

"It's indestructible, sir!" Rosier continued excitedly. "There was ink spilt all over it, but it came out undamaged!"

"I will find a way to destroy this artefact, trust me!" the caretaker was grinning and frowning manically at the same time. Potter and Weasley's face were an ashen grey. They tried protesting and explaining loudly, but needless to say their attempts were futile. The Slytherins were grinning maliciously; Rosier's face was triumphant.

Kit, still under the Disillusionment Charm, knew it was time to leave. His mission had succeeded so far. Allowing himself the luxury of a small grin, he snuck up back to the Gryffindors Common Room and lay down in his four poster bed back in the boys' dormitory.

From beneath his pillow, he drew out another piece of old parchment- the real Marauders' Map.

Now all he needed was the password... and he had another plan for that.

**A/N: I originally planned to continue writing about Harry's plan in this chapter, but decided it'd be too long. Anyway, hope you enjoyed this chapter! Thanks so much to those who reviewed last time, your encouragements really kept me going and supplied me with constant, imperative inspiration. **

**What do you think of Chapter 11? Please drop me a thought! :D**

**Take care,  
Epsilon Scorpii**


	12. Chapter 12: Mischief Managed

**The Second Chance**

DISCLAIMER: I do not own anything of Harry Potter. This story is written with permission from Kurinoone, and is based on Kurinoone's fabulous, beyond awesome story- "The Darkness Within" (which was inspired by Project Dark Overlord's wonderful story- "The Shattered Prophesy").

* * *

**Chapter 12: Mischief Managed**

Kit sat alone in the Common Room, waiting for Ron and Damien to return from their detention with Filch. His quill scratched a few words on his parchment, idly drawing patterns, as he pretended to concentrate on his Transfiguration essay. In front of him, a book titled _Tips to Perfect Wand Movements for Transfiguration Level 7 _was propped up against his bag. All in all a very convincing scene.

As the clock striked twelve, Kit's alert ears quickly picked up the slow, heavy footsteps of two people heading for the Gryffindor Common Room- most probably Ron and Damien. Instead of sitting up straighter, Kit made a show of slouching over his essay- a posture he had been trying to perfect. As usual, Ron was his model.

Kit was in the middle of a yawn and an eye- rub when Ron and Damien burst into the Common Room, both looking angry and flushed at Filch's injustice. Ron looked on the verge of swearing out loud, but he stopped dead when he saw Kit. Damien looked downright miserable.

"Good morning," Kit gave them a half- smile, looking completely surprised. "Did you guys just come back from dinner?"

"What do you think," muttered Damien snappily. "You think we had dust for dinner or something?"

Indeed, both their robes were flecked with white. Ron flicked his wand irritably at his robes. Immediately, they started to steam, and judging by Ron's look of horror, his robes were starting to heat up as well. Kit had to bite the inside of his cheeks to prevent himself from laughing at Ron's poort skill at non- verbal spells.

"_Scourgify," _Damien said aloud, not planning to practise any non- verbal spells especially after his friend had failed, though not too spectacularly. Immediately, Damien's robes returned to their original state. Kit raised an eyebrow.

"Detention? Cleaning the second floor without using magic?"

"Exactly!" Ron said, his temper fraying again. "For doing absolutely- nothing- wrong!"

Kit's eyes flickered from Ron to Damien, looking completely nonplussed. Ron, seeing as Damien was too miserable to tell the story, burst into full tale, complete with huge hand gestures and flowery language. Kit was silently astounded by Ron's decorum, or lack thereof- but he didn't say a thing, continuing to nod encouragingly and widen his eyes in disbelief at appropriate, irregular moments. Though silently, Kit did hope against hope that he wasn't overdoing it, or Ron would think that Kit was making fun of him or something.

"And you know what, in the end, not only Rosier and that bunch of slimy gits got away with it, Filch held me and Damy in detention, and to top it all off- he confiscated the Marauder's Map!" Ron said loudly, uncaring whether others had heard him.

Kit's brow furrowed. "But it's only a waterproof Map," he reasoned, trying to look helpful, sincere and tentative at the same time. At least, he hoped that was what his expression looked like, and not as though he were constipated. "What's the big deal?"

"But of course, you don't know!" Ron said, with a dramatic sigh, before looking to Damien uncertainly. Damien understood the unasked question.

"Fine, you can tell him," Damien said tiredly. "It's not as though it makes a difference. Filch is going to destroy it, and Dad's going to kill me."

"Ah... maybe not?" Ron tried to sound optimistic. "Filch probably hasn't found a way to destroy it yet."

"It may be water proof, but it definitely isn't fire- proof," Damien pointed out. "Dad told me Uncle Siri nearly set it on fire when he put it in his pocket when using the Floo Network."

"What is the Marauder's Map?" asked Kit this time, just so the topic wouldn't stray.

Ron immediately launched into full detail describing the awesomeness of the Map, and how it revealed secret passageways out of Hogwarts the Marauders had discovered. Kit felt a tingle of excitement crackle down his spine at the mention of underground passageways which the Professors had not discovered. Not to mention, it led directly to Hogsmeade... things might be easier than he thought.

"...and you need a password to activate it," Ron finished, sounding rather out of breath after talking loudly for so long. "Filch has been trying for years, I bet, but he never got it."

"It's gone," Damien continued moaning. "I can't believe it- after all it's been through! I've lost the fabled Marauders' Map."

Kit resisted the urge of rolling his eyes. "There's no need to look like a so-" _-sorry Gryffindork- "_sore- throat-ed... giraffe." Was sore- throated even a word? Merlin, his retorts were really starting to lack. His father was right! Idiocy just might be contagious. "I mean, we can get it back easily."

Ron and Damien looked at him, both excited and taken aback at the same time. Damien looked bewildered. "Excuse me?" the younger wizard said disbelievingly. "Did I hear you right?"

"There's one simple plan to get it back," Kit said, spreading his hands wide as he explained, something he picked up from Seamus. "Break into Filch's office, find it, nick it, come back without getting caught."

Damien scowled. "And you think I never thought of that? Filch's cat can see through Invisiblity Cloaks. Ron and I got caught by that stupid Mrs. Norris three years back. Filch has never loved her more."

Invisibility Cloak. File and save. And technically, cats couldn't _see _through Invisiblity Cloaks, but they could definitely sense two noisy wizards' presence. But of course Kit said nothing.

"Who said anything about using an Invisibility Cloak?" he said. "And besides, it'd be ages before you can get your hands on a good one," he added for good measure, to divert Damien's attention, as though Kit had not spot on the fact that Damien had an Invisiblity Cloak. "No, a simple Disillusionment Charm is all you need. A perfect one, though. So you won't be sensed. And a Silencing Charm as well. That way, you'd be undetectable."

_Not really though. Some creatures could still sense by smell or magical disturbance._

Ron, however, clapped his hand loudly on his thigh. "Yes, Disillusionment Charm!" he exclaimed triumphantly. "We just learnt it just now, in Defense Class!"

"I haven't," pointed out Damien. "It doesn't matter, I'll just put on the Cloak and go anyway- it's worth risking detention for the Map."

"Filch has a _nest _of cats in his office!" said Ron, sounding apprehensive. "That's how we got caught last time, remember! The whole bunch of them leapt on us, spitting and scratching!"

"Well, you can't do it alone," argued Damien. "You need someone to stand guard or something."

"I can go with you if you like," Kit immediately seized the opportunity, looking appropriately excited at the prospect of an adventure. "I can manage a perfect Disillusionment Charm."

As expected, Ron immediately brightened at the idea. "Yes, Kit can come with me! You don't mind detention do you, being a transfer student and all that?"

Kit smiled, and the somehow hauntingly familiar glint appeared in his eye. "No. Not a bit."

* * *

Five minutes later found Ron and Kit sticking to the shadows, creeping down the dark corridors in the direction of Filch's office. It had taken much debating and arguing, but in the end, it was decided that Ron would sneak into Filch's office together with Kit. Damien was rather sulky, but Kit merely told him to stop behaving like Hedwig. Which made his scowl deepen.

Ron's Disillusionment Charm was not perfect either; it flickered and shimmered like steam, sometimes throwing an odd shadow on the wall. But there was no one to be seen, and Kit had non- verbally cast a Notice- Me- Not Charm unbeknowest to the redhead, who tailed after the other, forgetting that he was supposed to be the one to lead the way to Filch's office.

When they arrived two minutes later, Ron was in charge for look out while Kit listened by the keyhole. There was nobody within hearing.

Quickly, Kit nudged Ron's arm. The door creaked open silently, and two invisible figures- one slightly more visible than the other- entered the office, then shut the door behind them quietly.

Kit immediately directed a Freezing and Silencing Charm on the cats, which hissed in the corners as the door opened. Ron barely noticed them when he entered the office, his eyes raking the desk greedily for the old piece of parchment.

"Okay, it's safe now," Kit told him.

Ron's Disillusionment Charm dropped immediately after that, as he wanted to save energy for their return journey. It took utter concentration, and Ron couldn't seem to manage it perfectly while walking quietly at the same time.

"You check the drawers, I'll check the desk," Kit told Ron, appearing beside the redhead out of thin air.

Ron immediately bent down and began to rifle through the drawers, though he was careful not to mess up the pile of papers inside the many compartments of the drawers. Kit meanwhile shifted the parchments on the table carefully, leaving as little trace as possible.

Suddenly, Kit hissed to Ron, causing the redhead to rise too quickly and knock his head against the desk.

"Ouch!" he yelped loudly before Kit could quieten him.

"The Marauder's Map, do you reckon it could be this?" Kit asked, holding up a piece of old parchment. It was dog- eared at the corner, and three brown splotches spread across the bottom. Other than that, it was completely blank. One side of it looked singed, too.

"It must be," Ron said, excited, his pain momentarily forgotten. "Well, there's only one way to find out, isn't there?" He pointed his wand at the parchment. "_I solemnly swear I am up to no good," _he whispered, his eyes dancing, with full expectation, anticipating the spidery lines detailing the Hogwarts grounds...

Nothing happened.

"What?" gasped Ron. "I thought- it looked similar-"

"It's just an old parchment, then," Kit said, turning away so that his eyes wouldn't give him away. "But what was supposed to happen, anyway?"

"It- the map was supposed to appear," Ron said, looking disappointed.

"But how is it going to disappear after you finish using it?" Kit asked, looking surprised, as he continued rummaging round the desk, placing and replacing Filch's things. "Does it fade out of sight in five minutes or something?"

"No," said Ron, resuming his search in the drawers. "Just point your wand at the Map and say 'Mischief Managed'."

How fitting.

"Oh," Kit said, before tapping Ron's shoulder for a second time. "Um, Ron? Do you think you could identify the Marauders' Map from this pile of old parchments?"

Ron looked at the enormous pile of brown, singed, dog- eared parchments, and immediately paled under the dim light.

"Oh _no."_

* * *

Damien waited impatiently in the Common Room, pacing up and down by himself as the clock hand reached a quarter, then another, and another- until it was already a quarter to one in the morning. But still no Ron or Kit returned. Damien mentally decided that if they did not return by two, he would go out under the Cloak, risky or not, and try to find the Map for himself.

But as the clock reached five minutes to two, and Damien was dozing off in the corner, the Common Room door slid open, and two shimmering figures dragged themselves through the portrait door. Barely a second later, Ron collasped onto the sofa tiredly, causing Damien who was on it to jump.

"Ron?" he said rather blearily. "Ouch- get off me! Can't you see I'm sitting here?"

The youngest Potter swatted Ron's arm off his head.

"Sorry," yawned Ron. "Didn't see you."

"Did you find it? Where's the Map?" Damien asked, suddenly awake, before looking at Ron's expression and telling the worst. Kit's grimace did not help a bit either.

"What- do you mean, Filch destroyed it?" he moaned, trying not to imagine their treasured Marauders' Map going up in flames.

"As good as," Kit spoke up instead of Ron. "He must have mixed it up along with the whole pile of old parchment he keeps in his office."

"We got through three stacks before Filch returned," Ron said desolately as he rubbed his eyes. "Every one of them looked similar- we couldn't tell the difference!"

"How did you check whether it was the Map or not? Don't tell me you spilled ink all over the place?" Damien said.

"Course not, we're not daft," Ron said at once. "We used the password. But none of them responded like the Marauders' Map should. One of them was a private letter of some sort, I'm not sure. I wonder why Filch keeps such a lot of junk in his office... Do you reckon Filch still has it on him?"

"Maybe," shrugged Damien, who looked disappointed. "It wasn't in the drawers, either, then? The one that keeps students' detention track records?"

"No, I checked that one," Ron replied. "I'm sorry, Damien... but I promise we'll look again. Tomorrow. Until we find it."

"Even if it means getting through three piles of parchment," Kit added, a half- smile playing on his lips.

"I'm going tomorrow, too," said Damien decisively. "It's faster to have another helper."

Another helper? Kit's eyes darted from Damien to Ron, but none of them looked back at him.

Since when was he part of the pranksters as well?

* * *

That night, after drawing the drapes around his bed and waiting patiently for 10 minutes until he was sure Weasley and Potter had fallen asleep, Kit slid the Marauders' Map out of his bag and studied it under his wandlight again.

"_I solemnly swear I am up to no good," _he whispered in the darkness, pointing his wand directly at the Map. Immediately, true to Ron and Ginny's description, spidery lines began to form on the parchment, forming beautifully detailed sketches of the Hogwarts grounds. Kit watched in silent awe as lines stretched across the Map, forming the Great Hall, the Slytherin dungeon, the Quidditch Pitch, the winding staircases... the Gryffindor dormitory.

A chill ran down his spine as he touched the small labelled dot, named 'Harry James Potter' on the Map. He felt vulnerable- just one look at the Map would be enough to blow his cover! There it was, the name he hated, the name he had denied for so long, displayed for all to see on the Map.

The Marauders' Map must not fall into the hands of others... especially not Dumbledore.

His eyes strayed to the Professors' Quarters, noting each and every staff member of Hogwarts, before pausing on a labelled dot wandering down the second- floor corridor, in the opposite direction of where Filch was. Quickly, Harry checked all the names of the Hogwarts Professors, before following the dot up to the third- floor corridor.

Professor Victor Damps, Defense Against Dark Arts Professor, or Rodolphus Lestrange, loyal Death- Eater of Voldemort's?

Or perhaps, neither...

With a small satisfied smirk, Harry pointed his wand at the Map.

"Mischief managed."

**A/N: Sorry for taking such a horribly long time to update! I've been really busy since school reopened, and have been focusing on other stories. :( So sorry about that! Anyway, thanks so much for reviewing and encouraging me in the last chapter, you guys really kept me going! Thanks ever so much!**

**Please do drop me a thought, or rate if you're lazy to review:**

**'.' for lovely**

**'O' for okay **

**'X' for terrible and**

**':D' for awesome! :D**

**Cheers,  
Epsilon Scorpii**


	13. Chapter 13: Behind the Bars

**The Second Chance**

DISCLAIMER: I do not own anything of Harry Potter. This story is inspired by Kurinoone's awesome story 'The Darkness Within', which was inspired by Project Dark Overlord's wonderful fic- 'A Shattered Prophesy'.

_Thanks so much for all your wonderful support in the last chapter! I couldn't have done without it._

* * *

**Chapter 13: Behind the Bars**

As Kit and Ron were creeping into Filch's office in the middle of the night, James and Sirius were doing the same kind of stealth- mode activity. Both Aurors were currently crouched behind a crumbling wall, senses buzzing with high alert.

After three tense minutes, Sirius shifted slightly beside James uneasily.

"When will they ever give the signal?" he said, half- grumbling, half- worried. "According to Fudge's sources, the raid started five minutes ago."

But if the raid had indeed started five minutes ago, it didn't seem to be much of a raid, as there didn't seem to be anything out of the ordinary in Greville Street. Greville was the nearest Muggle village there was to Hogwarts, located miles away from the Wizarding school, in the valley between two mountains. It was a peaceful and small enough village, but Fudge, this time, had noticed it.

Over the past few weeks, the Ministry was losing more and more Aurors over to Voldemort's side, and half of their number had been killed during the Death- Eater raids, whenever the Ministry tried to interfere. Eventually, Fudge decided that he had enough of sending Aurors out to die, when he needed them stationed by _his _side, so he had called off the alert. From then onwards, the Ministry would not be informed of any raid activities, nor would they take any action against it, for as Fudge put it, "What is the point? By trying to save others, we end up losing more of our number, and the Muggles are no better off anyway." A few Aurors like Herald and Web, the Order members including James and Sirius were very much against it, as they wanted to help whenever they could, to avenge Harry's death, but there was nothing much that they could do about it. Fudge's decision was final.

But when the call came in that Greville village was under attack, Fudge had immediately perked up and paled under his desk lamp. For he knew, as well as the entire Wizarding World, that Greville was pretty close to Hogwarts, and if the Ministry did not manage to protect such a small Muggle village so close to Hogwarts, how long would it be before the Death- Eaters took on the Wizarding School? If the Ministry failed to protect the village, an uproar would follow, and Fudge would definitely be sacked for sure. And so, at this thought, he had promptly sent all the Ministry Aurors he had to spare off to Greville village, to defend the Muggle village whatever it took.

But now that all the Aurors were already there, stationed in different locations and preparing themselves for the signal to attack, it really did seem as though Fudge had been fed the wrong information, for there was no fire, no havoc, no screaming... everything was completely normal. Cats slunk out in the back alley. Rats scurried around in the drain. The barman snored loudly at the counter.

Sirius and James' legs were terribly cramped after squatting in their positions for ten whole minutes. Eventually, Sirius abandoned caution and rose up slowly to stretch his legs, though he was still careful enough to stay behind the wall.

"Fudge's been fed the wrong information," he said aloud, voicing out everyone's thoughts. Somewhere off to their left, Tonks grimaced and straightened herself.

"It seems like it," she agreed, not looking very happy about it. After all, they had been called back on double red alert in the middle of the night, and it turned out to only be a wild goose chase.

"Maybe it was a part of their plan," said James suddenly, and the atmosphere suddenly turned even more quiet. "Maybe Fudge was given the wrong information on purpose."

"What would be the point?" Sirius said, trying not to take things in such a grim point of view.

"The point?" James smile was grim. "Every single remaining Auror the Ministry has is here, Sirius."

Even as he spoke, they felt the anti- Apparition wards snap up, preventing any of the Ministry Aurors from escaping. There were yells resounding from the other side of the alley. The three Aurors immediately tensed, their wands aloft, prepared for attack. Blood was roaring in their ears, awaiting the moment the Death- Eaters arrived.

Barely five seconds later, hundreds of loud cracks resounded in the night air, and the first sheet of flame rose up into the night sky from a house a few streets away from where Tonks, James and Sirius were stationed.

Still the signal never came.

The first scream rang into the night, piercing their conscience.

"We can't wait for the signal anymore," said Sirius, his knuckles white as he held his wand.

Then there was a flash of bright light, and the image of a skeleton with a green serpent hanging out of his mouth rose into the night, glowing amidst the darkness, taunting the Aurors.

"So what's the plan now?" hissed Sirius to James.

CRACK!

Figures dressed in black that had just Apparated all around them. Within five seconds, they were already surrounded.

"Oh fabulous," said Tonks, her voice dripping with sarcasm.

The Death- Eaters seemed no hurry to rush in for the kill. "Black and Potter," the first one spoke, his mask still in place. "The Dark Lord seems to take particular interest in you both."

Both James and Sirius ignored this comment. The three of them knew they made an easy target surrounded, and although it was their intention to fight, their specific orders were to protect the Muggle villagers. Their positions were at the secluded outskirts of the village as they had been preparing for a surprise attack on the Death- Eaters, which had obviously failed. Now, they had to somehow break out of the ring of approximately fifteen Death- Eaters surrounding them and run back to the village to help the rest of the Aurors.

"Rosier," greeted Sirius mockingly. "From what I've heard, the Dark Lord seems to have taken less interest in you."

Rosier gave a snarl and a jet of green light thundered out of his wand, but there was a guttural cry recognizable as Crabbe Senior's, "No! The Dark Lord wants them both alive!"

Blood was pounding loudly in their ears by now. Apparently, this was Voldemort's plan to not only attack a Muggle Village and sway the Wizarding World plus weaken the Ministry, but also to capture all the Ministry Aurors... and specifically James Potter and Sirius Black.

"We're outnumbered three to one, by the count," Sirius whispered to James as they slowly turned around so that their backs were facing each other as they fought. Tonks was also prepared; her hair was now matte black to suit her robes, her wand aloft, and a spell was ready on her lips.

"We've got to fight," James replied. "We're not giving up that easily yet. But meanwhile, keep on trying to break the Apparition Wards."

"And how do we do that?" asked Tonks as the Death- Eaters circled in on their prey.

"Either our spells are strong enough to punch through the barriers, or we take down enough Death- Eaters so that the wards will be weakened," Sirius replied in a fast, urgent whisper.

"Presuming the wards were put up by the Death- Eaters, that would work," said James. "If it's Voldemort's magic that set up the Apparition Wards..."

"See you behind the bars," Sirius said, and together, they started to fire.

* * *

James and Sirius were wrong. The Death- Eaters outnumbered the Aurors four to one instead of three. This was because amongst the Ministry Aurors that were stationed in Greville village, among one out of eight of them were turncoats; spies of Voldemort's. They were either blackmailed or under the Imperius Curse, but most of them had simply followed the Dark Lord's orders out of fear.

Tonks was responsible for covering James' and Sirius' backs as she threw up her shield, while the other two Marauders fired quickly and randomly at the weaker spot of the circle- where Crabbe and Goyle Senior stood together, their elbows knocking into each other every few times they tried to make a move. Standing in a circle also gave the Death- Eaters a slight disadvantage, for it meant whenever the Aurors who were caught in the middle managed to avoid the spells, the Death- Eaters at the other side of the circle would get hit. James, Sirius and Tonks successfully kept this up, although a Cutting Hex seared Sirius's shoulder once. Within minutes, the circle was successfully broken.

"Tonks!" yelled James and together they tore out of the circle, leaping over the unconscious or dead Death- Eaters in their wake.

Once James, Sirius and Tonks had managed to fight their way out of the circle, they started running- not away from the Death- Eaters, but away from the deserted area of the village to where Muggles were being tortured in front of their eyes. Green and red jets of light soared all around them, and it was quite a miracle that three of them remained reasonably unhurt despite all of it.

The sight of the main village was eerie to behold. The place was swarming with figures with black robes and masks; and the most chilling sight was the number of recognizable faces they could see, lying on the ground, hanging in the balance between life and death. Web, Drake and Rile were among them. But they hadn't time to check if they were alive or not, for at that moment Rosier and the others came charging after them, crying "It's Black and Potter!"

James couldn't help but wonder why the Dark Lord wanted them both that badly. Could it be because they were both the elite Aurors remaining in the Ministry? But there had been no order to capture Moody, had there? The Death- Eaters didn't seem to be in a hurry to kill or capture them, they were more keen on torture. After all, there was no way the Aurors could Apparate out of the village unless they ran past the anti- Apparition Wards.

"Now we split," Sirius said, and he immediately threw himself into the ring of attack, jets of green light thundering out of his wand. Kill upon sight. Fudge's orders. None of them quite liked the idea of it, as some of the current Death- Eaters were actually Ministry staff who were Imperiused, but in this case there was not much choice left. Azkaban had been taken over by Voldemort, so sending the prisoners there would be equivalent to sending them back to their den.

It was a sickening sight in Greville village. The Death- Eaters were setting fire to each and every cottage they passed, and they snapped up a barrier so that the Muggles could not escape from their burning homes. There were screams and cries everywhere, which seemed to sear James' heart every time he heard those pitiful cries, yet he was helpless. He could only duel the few Death- Eaters at a time, and Stun those who were under the Imperius Curse for he couldn't bear to kill them in cold blood- like Stanley Shunpike.

But barely ten minutes of the fight before the signal was given to retreat. Sirius stared incredulously at the red and yellow flares that were sent up into the sky. Moody, who was somewhere behind him, gave Sirius a sharp prod in the back, causing Sirius to jump.

"Retreat!" snarled Moody. "Gather all the men we've left and make a run for it."

"Run?" repeated Sirius incredulously. "Our orders were to do everything it takes. We've barely fought for ten minutes!"

Moody's growl was even more menacing than before. "Do have any idea how many men we have left now? The entire Team 2 and 3 are down!"

"Down?"

"Dead!" snarled Moody for the last time, before he blasted a Death- Eater out of his path and disappeared round the corner in a few quick hobbles. Sirius felt as though his heart were wrenched out with grief.

The entire Team 2 and 3? Surely not? Frank and Alice Longbottom were in Team 2. And Remus... Remus was also here, fighting for the Order.

For a moment, Sirius fought hard, sub- consciously, but his mind was preoccupied. For the first time, he was unsure about his decisions- should he continue fighting this losing battle and try to save the Muggles' village, or attempt to rescue the rest of the Order members and Aurors and make a run for it? Once again, it was a war between those he cared about and innocents, and he really didn't know which was the right course of action.

Quite suddenly, his best friend reappeared by his side, blood running down a side of his face but otherwise unharmed. Sirius couldn't have been more glad at the sight of James. At least they were in this together.

"Moody's signal is to run," Sirius told James. Moody was the Leader of all the Aurors, who had fired up the flares in the first place. "He said that Team 2 and 3 are down, and he told us to leave while we can." In normal circumstances, hearing the order of retreat issuing from Moody's mouth was a scarce thing, but ever since Harry had died, and the Ministry had practically fallen to pieces after Voldemort rose, stronger than ever before, Moody's faith in the ability of the Order seemed to sway, and he was no longer as proud as he had been of the Aurors under him, as their number had rapidly dropped from fifteen teams to six.

"Then we shall run," James replied, much to Sirius' shock, before continuing, "But make sure everyone else escapes before us. We'll run last."

"What about the villagers?" Sirius asked as he fired a Stunner at another Death- Eater.

"The Dark Lord gave special orders to have us both caught," James replied as he fired out curses. "The Death- Eaters will definitely give chase, and knowing them, they'll compete to capture us to claim the glory. That will leave the village in peace."

"Not necessarily," began Sirius. "What about those who are trapped-"

"It's the best we can do!" snapped James. "You know full well we cannot afford to save everyone."

There was an anguished look in James' eyes as he said so, and deep in his heart, Sirius knew that his best friend was right.

"Kingsley," James started to speak into his communicator. "Gather all the rest and retreat. Run West out of the Apparition Wards."

Sirius was trying to tear down all the barriers that trapped the Muggle villagers in their burning homes. After James had relayed the message to the rest of the teams, James joined in Sirius, extinguishing the fires and casting a Shield Charm over the Muggles.

"This requires a whole herd of Obliviators," Sirius commented to James as they tore down the third barrier. "So much for magic secrecy."

"Well, you can't see the Ministry doing anything about it now that Voldemort's at large, can you?" James panted in reply. "They'll be lucky enough to live."

Out of the corner of their eyes, they saw a few Order members, an unhappy Tonks among them, supporting a few Aurors as they made a run for it, always West, as James had instructed. A few Death- Eaters had started to notice, and were starting to give chase. Kingsley was the only one fighting, as he bought time for the others to leave as quickly as possible.

James and Sirius hastened to join him.

"Are all of them out yet?"

"Yes," Kingsley replied in his deep voice. "Dedalus was severely injured. Remus has helped him out, though he wanted to stay with both of you and fight."

James nodded. "I know," he said, "But I forced him to move on. We can't risk anyone else. It's me and Sirius the Dark Lord is after, so the rest must go first."

After fending off the Death- Eaters through a frenzy haze of spells and jets of light, James and Kingsley's communicator buzzed. Sirius had lost his when a Stunner hit it during the battle. "It's alright, all of Team 4 and 5 have managed to leave. They're currently at Potter Manor, as James suggested."

"What about Team 2 and 3?"

"We lost contact since the fight began," said Kingsley grimly. "We suspect that Team 2 and 3 were the first to be taken down seeing as they were positioned right in the centre of the village."

"We have to find them," said James determinedly. "Frank and Alice are among them. They have children to take care of."

"We cannot afford to stay much longer," said Kingsley. "I heard one of the Death- Eaters say that they might summon the Dark Lord. If Voldemort is indeed Summoned, it would be difficult for us to get away, let alone with the injured victims."

"Five more minutes," promised James. "Sirius and I will search for the rest of them."

Together, both Marauders ran into the village again, locating the position Team 2 had been stationed before the fight began. But when they reached there, the wall Team 2 and 3 were supposed to be crouching behind was no longer there, nor was the cottage. Everything was in ashes, flames or pieces.

"Beneath the rubble," cried Sirius as he noticed a pale hand buried under the debris. "I think all of them may have been buried in there!"

James and Sirius started to levitate out the bodies and large rocks out of the messy pile of blood, bricks and bodies, trying not to wince each time they saw the faces of their Auror team members. Alice and Frank were found amongst them. It seemed as though the entire team had been knocked out before they were able to attack at all. The Death- Eaters' first move was smart, which was to blast the wall they were hiding behind, therefore rendering all of them hurt or unconscious.

"We'd better get all of them to Kingsley," said James worriedly. "I'll call for the Order members to return and help haul them to safety. We can't manage to save all of them on our own."

Sirius nodded wearily. In truth, his magic was starting to wear thin, and he was fatigued after dueling for what felt like hours. But he couldn't give up now, because his friends were in danger. They weren't safe yet.

Within ten minutes, all of the Ministry Aurors and Order members were on their way to safety, with Remus and Tonks helping them out of the village, past the Apparition Wards before they left for Potter Manor. Kingsley had left supporting Frank as well, to James' insistence. Any other back up help the Order had to offer were all turned down by James as both Marauders prepared themselves to create a distraction.

"Prepare to run fast," James told Sirius as they knocked down a Death- Eater with a double curse blast. "Ready?"

Sirius nodded, then slid away into the opposite alley.

Immediately, James started to yell loudly, "RUN, SIRIUS! Wherever you are! Run out of the Apparition Wards to safety!", over the Sonorus Charm, as though his partner weren't standing metres away from him. It was a lousy speech cobbled together despite the circumstances, but it conveyed the point. As the Death- Eaters turned around at James' voice, they were just in time to see Sirius and James sprint past them into the outskirts of the village, running hard until they managed to past the Apparition Wards. And all the while, they was a deafening cry behind them, which sounded more like a roar to their ears, with Rosier's voice ringing the loudest, "NO! They are mine to capture!", "GET THEM!" and amidst all of the confusion, warning cries, "the Dark Lord wants them alive!"

Once out of the village, they began to run uphill, as the Apparition Wards were still surrounding them, preventing them from leaving by any means of magic; Portkey , Apparition or otherwise. However, their pursuers were catching up quick, as some of the Death- Eaters were prepared with flying broomsticks. James swore and started to aim curses in the air, trying to knock out those wo were closest to catching up with them.

Most of the Death- Eaters were out of the village now. Summoning all his magic, Sirius directed his wand from where he stood at the village.

"_Protego!" _he cried, and a strong, bright shield rose, sealing off the the village, preventing the Death- Eaters from re-entering the village.

"Wow, good thinking- Sirius? Sirius!"

James turned around to see his partner sway on the spot, threatening to fall over. Immediately James backtracked to his friend's aid.

The strong shield had cost Sirius too much magic. He felt his knees buckle, and only managed to stay upright with James' hand supporting him.

"I'm fine," Sirius managed to grit out.

"No you most definitely aren't," James said at once. "And you better bloody well not tell me to leave you alone and run, because I'd prefer to-"

"We need to run, Prongs," Sirius said, righting himself, though his head swayed with the effort. "I'm fine now."

As if to prove his point, Sirius started up the hill, sprinting as fast as he could, though he could swear the edges of his vision was starting to blur. He knew what was happening to him- magical shutdown, to allow his body to recuperate after spending more magic than he could afford. But they hadn't reached the Apparition point. He couldn't rest yet...

James was running slightly in front of him now. Sirius could feel his lead like feet threatening to give way with every step he forced himself onwards. How long could he keep this up? Three minutes maximum. Or maybe two. Did he have time to escape the Death- Eaters? Calculations and speculations swam around in his head, jumbling themselves up with reality itself. Nothing was clear now...

Then quite suddenly, the Death- Eaters were all around them, most of them on broomsticks, swooping so low that Sirius failed to duck their curses. He was sent sprawling onto the ground, excruciating pain clawing at his stomach. He felt his head hit the ground, and heard James' frantic cry, doubtless screaming his name. Despite all of it, Sirius managed a faint smile. And who said James couldn't scream?

"Sirius!" Barely a second later, James arms closed around his shoulders and pulled him upright. He felt his best friend still at the sight of his front, doubtless he was bleeding badly. But as of right now, the pain was slowly fading away into numbness, along with the world.

"You know, sometimes your screams really sound like Lily's," Sirius muttered.

"What?" James thought he had misheard. "Of all things... Look, we have to keep moving- we're only a metre away from the Apparition Wards! I passed it just now before you fell-"

"You really shouldn't have come back for me."

"Shut up."

James sent three more Stunners into the air. One of them hit its target, and the Death- Eater fell with a cry to the floor. Trying hard to ignore the suffering he was putting his friend through, James helped to pull Sirius upright.

"Come on," he told Sirius urgently. "Surely one metre isn't too much for a mutt like you?"

"I may have been a handsome dog, Prongs," Sirius panted, his breath coming fast, his front soaked through with blood. "But this dog is getting old."

"Now you admit it!" grunted James, trying to keep up the banter, restore some of the former normality to their conditions, so that by any luck his heart rate would slow down, and that he would be able to think straight and clear, _and _haul Sirius to safety.

He'd thought they would have made it. James managed to drag Sirius right up to the Apparition point, and was reaching for his Portkey- he was afraid Sirius was too weak for Side- Long Apparition, which was known to be a more violent means of transport than Portkeys. Furthermore his magic was extremely low, and he could barely focus at the sight of his best friend bleeding and barely conscious before him. If he failed to concentrate for one moment during the Apparition, he or worse still, Sirius, who was already hurt would be Splinched.

His fist had already closed around the small stopwatch in his pocket. He could feel in thrumming back to life the second he passed through the Apparition Wards. It was at that precise moment when he felt Sirius struggle violently in his grip. He looked down and saw his friend spasm with pain, face contorted, his movements thrashing wildly in agony. For only a second, he released his grip, realizing that something was wrong. He felt his breath catch, and as though in slow motion, he saw a jet of fiery red light, the Crustacius Curse, soar from Rosier's wand and hit Sirius directly in the shoulder. The impact was enough to blast Sirius off his feet, and Sirius was sent sprawling. Away from him.

There wasn't enough time to do anything. All James remembered doing was screaming, a sound of pure terror, "NO!" but even that was not heard by his ears. He tried desperately to shake his grip off the glowing Portkey but he found it impossible. Sirius stared blankly, unseeingly at him from a distance, the blue light of James' Portkey throwing eerie shadows over his best friend's pale face.

Then he was gone, transported against his own will, to safety, away from the fire, leaving behind the danger, the Death- Eaters... and his best friend.

* * *

Miles away, in Hogwarts, Kit gave a sharp gasp of pain and sat bolt upright in his dormitory, his left hand clutching his invisible scar.

* * *

Sirius awoke in a cell, his head pounding ferociously. The first thing he noticed was that his wrists were tightly shackled together, and he scowled deeply at that. Shackled wrists would make his life a whole lot more difficult. Slowly and stiffly, Sirius somehow managed to push himself upright. First surprise- he was still alive! Although how he managed to survive the ordeal was beyond him. He looked down at his attire. His Auror robes were already replaced by fresh, if not clean, rags. Sirius felt his stomach churn at the sight. He was dressed in _prisoners' _rags. Despite all of it, Sirius still managed to feel angry and annoyed. He was an elite Auror! he thought indignantly. And now he was dressed in black Death- Eater rags that befitted the lowest status ever to exist in the world.

As he was noting his partially healed injuries with interest and curiosity, a sudden cold chill that he knew all to well stole over him. Immediately, Sirius' head snapped up. It was only then did he begin to pay attention to his surroundings.

He was in an extremely dark and dingy cell, with no light filtering in. He had to squint badly just to see anything at all. At this realization, fear stole over him, clawing and gnawing at the pit of his stomach so much it was hard to bear. His foot shot out involuntarily, and before he managed to straighten it at all, it connected with a loud thud with the prison cell bars. As quick as lightning, there was a buzz, and a bolt of electric charge seemed to shoot directly at Sirius' foot, causing him to hiss in pain.

The thought of being trapped forever in this cramped, dark and _cold _cell was horrible to imagine. It was as though he were blind. He could barely see. Repeatedly, he waved his hands before him, but he could barely make out the fingers he was holding up in front of him.

He never really noticed how dark the cell was when he first woke up, as he had assumed that things would look brighter once his eyes grew accustomed to the darkness. But he was wrong. No matter what he did or how he rubbed his eyes, he couldn't _see. _

At least he knew where he was, anyway.

Azkaban.

As if to confirm his thoughts, suddenly, there was a loud creak somewhere in front of him, and a brilliant shaft of light cut through the darkness, scorching his retinas. Instinctively, he shielded his eyes from the light, but opened his eyes almost immediately after, as the prospect of light, no matter how bright it was, brought comfort as it drove away the darkness.

He saw a flight of steep, winding staircase leading to a landing somewhere to the left of his cell. Someone was descending the stairs. In fact, a few someones were. Sirius' keen ears picked up three pairs of heavy footsteps coming down the steps. Sirius averted his gaze from the swinging lanterns and cast his eyes around his prison. The cells beside him were empty, and the opposite of his cell was a blank wall covered with moss. But three cells away from his, Sirius noticed another inmate, who was cowering away from the sharp light.

As the three visitors came into full view, stopping before Sirius' cell, the Auror immediately identified the three Death- Eaters: Rosier, Avery and Nott. Voldemort's three Inner Circle Death- Eaters.

"Black," Rosier was the first to speak as usual. He was wearing a maniacal grin, not unlike to the ones on his partner's faces. Sirius immediately felt obliged to return it.

"The cell's not breaking you yet, is it?" Nott said, peering closer at Sirius' face. "But trust me, give it time. Soon you'll be waving your hands about in the air, trying to see the fingers you are holding up. That's a pretty frequent occurrence here among the inmates."

Sirius felt something cold slide down his backbone, but he ignored the comment completely otherwise. "You'll need something sharper than shackles to break my wrists," he replied jauntily, as though he were completely unaffected.

"Not that, you moron," Avery said with a scowl. "We meant the _eerie _darkness. Pitch blackness that will drive you insane just to see the light of the day."

Sirius rolled his eyes. "I'm used to it. Sirius _Black, _remember?"

"I wager you're a bit tougher than the others. It'll take you maybe two weeks to break. But no matter," Rosier spoke again. "We're here to accelerate the process."

Sirius didn't much like the sound of that.

"I reckon you mean Dementors," Sirius said, pretending to sound calm. "Oh well, no matter. I've faced worse. Seeing as I've lived my entire life like a wonderful spoilt prince, the worst memory the Dementors can relive will be the day Remus almost forgot my birthday. It was about thirty years ago, really. A very traumatizing experience."

Rosier merely grinned back, exposing all his teeth as he did so. "I did think of that before," he said, and his eyes began to glitter in earnest. "And that is why, I'm going to give you a bad memory to relive."

Sirius opened his mouth to retort, but Avery reacted by chucking a basin of ice cold water at him.

Except that it wasn't water. Sirius felt someone- Nott presumably, yank his hair roughly, and forced his head into the stone basin, where white mists were swirling...

* * *

Sirius landed sprawling on the top of the staircase. It was the same staircase that he had seen from his cell seconds ago, before he was sucked into the memory. And inches away from him, a much younger Rosier was standing beside Sirius, whistling to cover the Death- Eater's nervousness.

It was obvious that Rosier was getting very jumpy for some reason. He kept pulling back his left sleeve, staring at the newly branded Dark Mark on his forearm, before resuming his position with a determined look in his eyes. Sirius thought he knew why. Rosier was only a new Inner Circle Death- Eater then. This, whatever the memory was going to show, was one of his first missions, and he was afraid yet determined at the same time.

Sirius' instincts were thrumming loudly, buzzing on high alert as he crouched beside Rosier. Whatever the memory had the show, it certainly wouldn't be good. Apparently it was supposed to be a bad memory, presumably something traumatizing...

Rosier was descending the stairs now. Sirius hastened to follow the Death- Eater.

It was as dark as he remembered in the cells. The only source of light proved to be Rosier's bright lantern, which bobbed up and down in front of Sirius like a beacon, illuminating the steep steps before him.

As they went deeper and deeper into the cells, the chill hit them both hard, and though it was only a memory, Sirius felt bitterly cold, as he had been in his own cell minutes ago. Rosier stopped in the middle of the staircase, seemingly apprehensive, but Sirius heard voices below them, in the cells, so he quickly descended three steps below Rosier and listened.

For a while, he could make no more but hushed whispering, but suddenly the foreign yet familiar voice rang out, louder than before.

"You told him," the voice said, with a hint of finality in them. "It was you who sold me out."

"What if it was, Reggie?" laughed the second voice, and with a jolt, Sirius knew who those voices belonged to.

"We had a deal," said Regulus' voice with cold fury. "You told me about the Horcruxes, and I hunted and destroyed them to bring down Voldemort. You said you wanted to defeat the Dark Lord as revenge, after he left you here to die in Azkaban."

"If only it were that easy," Rodolphus Lestrange replied, and Sirius could hear the sly smile in his voice. "There are seven of them out there, Black. Maybe even more. And you never did manage to destroy any of them, did you?"

"So you've changed your mind."

Rodolphus laughed. "I had a better idea," he crowed. "Now, I have an easier way out of this hell hole, thanks to you. By selling out a traitor, I've bought myself a place back at Voldemort's side. He'll be sending for me soon."

Somewhere behind him, Sirius heard Avery hailing Rosier. Suddenly, Sirius found that he could descend the steps. Silently, he followed Rosier down the steps, into the cells. Rosier's lantern light was dimming. He swore loudly and yelled back up to Avery, "Bring me _five _more lanterns!"

Sirius knew that they needed magical lanterns to see in the dark, as one of the effects of Dementors in Azkaban was to snuff out any source of light. The _Lumos _spell would not work in Azkaban- he had learnt as much during his patrols in the prison during the early days. It was then when it struck Sirius hard- the Dark Lord had been controlling Azkaban ever since ten years ago. And Fudge just kept on denying it.

With a lurch of his heart, by the dim light of Rosier's lantern, Sirius saw the face of his younger brother- Regulus. And Regulus was occupying the same cell Sirius himself had been in. He looked in pretty bad shape, with blood-stained robes and a nasty gash running down his face. Sirius noted that his left leg was twisted in an awkward angle. But his keen eyes were dark and searching, and _serious, _as if he'd seen things he'd never forget- and since when had his younger brother seem so... _old? _Regulus was only around twenty by then. But he looked twenty five, maybe even twenty six.

Horcruxes... Merlin, _Regulus had been hunting Horcruxes. _Regulus wasn't the coward Sirius took him to be.

It wasn't possible.

Sirius felt hollowed inside; his head was pounding; everything didn't seem clear.

_Regulus had been hunting Horcruxes._

_He was trying to bring Voldemort down._

How could it be? Yet it was true, and according to the conversation he'd overheard, Rodolphus Lestrange had sold out his brother to buy himself a place back at Voldemort's side... Why had Voldemort cast off his loyal servant, such as Lestrange, he wasn't sure. But that wasn't what he was interested in knowing.

It was something far beyond what he could have imagined; he had never imagined for one moment, that the brother that had been a _Slytherin _had emerged into the greatest hero among them all. And Regulus had died, seemingly a traitor to both the Light and the Dark, unbeknowest to everyone the reason of the price that cost him his life.

Sirius felt his breath coming up fast. He knew now, why the Death- Eaters wanted him to watch this memory. It was a nightmare. And beyond that, was the knife of guilt that kept stabbing him repeatedly.

After all, he was as good as the one that turned in Regulus Black.

The conversation in the cells had stopped, but at the sight of Rosier, approaching Regulus' cell, Regulus spoke again-

"The Dark Lord was right. You are indeed nothing but _filth, Bailey."_

Sirius didn't know what that meant, but it was seemingly a cutting jibe, as Rodolphus' manic smile immediately grew forced.

"Go on then, kill me, if you can," taunted Rodolphus. "There is nothing you can do to me now."

"I swear I'll grant you your wish," returned Regulus, his eyes fixed on Rosier, who took one last look at him and turned away, yelling "AVERY! How long does it take for you to get the bunch of Dementors!"

"Oh really?" Rodolphus was laughing now.

"Just give me one more minute," Regulus replied, smirking, and Sirius felt his heart clench at that familiar expression. Perhaps, he and his brother weren't that different after all.

Just as Rosier turned to walk up the steps, the cell door above was opened, and Rosier immediately ran up the steps. Sirius was forced to follow him. There was a flash of blinding light as the cell door was opened, as the previous darkness was pitch black, and the five lanterns Avery brought as promised was like a flash of sunlight in a dark hole.

Avery laughed at Rosier's face. "Don't you like visiting Azkaban? You're such a girl, Rosy. People like me relish the moment the souls are sucked from their bodies..."

Then Avery descended the steps, and the memory started to fade. Suddenly, everything was spinning uncontrollably, and the next thing Sirius knew, he was sprawled on the staircase once more. Behind him, Rosier was walking up the steps with two lanterns held tightly in his hands, and Avery was standing next to Sirius laughing, holding three lanterns. At once, Sirius understood- now, he was watching Avery's memory- a continuation of Rosier's.

Behind them, Rosier gave a piercing shriek, but Avery merely laughed. With a wave of his wand, the Dementor began to glide towards them, and just like the cold- Sirius thought he felt the effects of the Dementor as well. Determinedly he fought the numb wave of coldness that stole over him, and Sirius followed Avery down the steps.

And stopped.

Something was wrong.

Regulus' cell had been the one on the direct left of the staircase. As a trained Auror, Sirius was pretty certain he had got it right. And Rodolphus' cell had been the one beside Regulus'. But somehow, both of them had switched. Regulus was in Rodolphus' cell and Rodolphus was in Regulus'... but how could that be? How was it possible?

Sirius' heart lurched at the sight. In this memory, _Rodolphus' _leg was twisted in an awkward angle, and Regulus wore a manic smile that people who knew him would never have associated with him. But then again, Sirius had never thought of his younger brother as a hero- but a cowardly little mouse, really. Just like Peter Pettigrew.

But that was it, wasn't it?

Rodolphus was actually Regulus, and Regulus was Rodolphus!

He knew what was coming.

Sirius watched with rising horror as Avery cackled to himself, and walked directly over to what seemed like Regulus' cell. He unlocked the bolts, and the fake Regulus shot the fake Rodolphus a triumphant smile, before it turned into a long lasting scream as the Dementor was directed into his prison cage. Avery was now cheering and laughing, watching the sight with sickening enthusiasm, but Sirius only had eyes for his brother.

"I told you so- Black," was all the real Regulus said, with a small smirk on his face.

**A/N: So so so sorry for the long wait, first it was because of my work load and limited time on the computer then it was because I became obsessed with the Merlin TV series. Ahhh. Hope you'll forgive my many excuses. So here's an extra long chapter to help compensate for the long time I've been away. I really hope you like it! **

**Did you expect this outcome? Do tell me!**

**Do leave me a review, a word or two! to tell me if you like it! Or you can rate**

**':D' for awesome!**

**'O' for okay and**

**'X' for terrible.**

**Cheers!  
Epsilon Scorpii**


	14. Chapter 14: The Duelling Club

**The Second Chance**

DISCLAIMER: I do not own anything of Harry Potter. This story is inspired by Kurinoone's awesome story 'The Darkness Within', which was inspired by Project Dark Overlord's wonderful fic- 'A Shattered Prophesy'.

**Thanks a lot to those who reviewed in the last chapter:** _Lord Toewart, Kurinoone, Ash-Bookworm 113, v1cky84, Biaa Black Potter, rainbowgirl, Jessica, draco and G _**your encouragement really kept me going! This chapter is dedicated to you in thanks for your wonderful support. :D**

* * *

**Chapter 14: The Duelling Club**

It was now the fourth day of Kit's stay in Hogwarts.

Yesterday night, after he had managed to sneak a look at the Marauder's Map, his scar had flared up again. It wasn't too ferocious- bearable, but barely- and he had only managed to throw up the Silencing Charms around his four- poster- bed before hissing in agony at the pain building up in his forehead.

He had expected it, of course. Voldemort had already told Harry of his plans to attack Greville Town. Only after the raid in Greville had been completed only was Harry supposed to start breaking down the Hogwarts barriers. But a trill of panic was slowly crawling up the pit of his stomach. Harry wasn't that worried about the Hogwarts barriers; he had found out about the Secret Keepers, and he intended to put his plan into action only after the first week.

He wanted to find out the truth. What exactly had happened in the year when he was Dumbledore's mindless puppet? What did James Potter make him do, under the influence of the Imperius Curse? As far as he knew, he had been friends with Damien Potter and Ron Weasley under the spell, and that was about all. He couldn't even get his hands on the Daily Prophet, now that the postal service was suspended!

And still there were so many unsolved mysteries... the three white feathers tucked neatly behind his ninja blades, back at Riddle Manor. The smell of smoke that lingered in his bathroom the day he woke up. The black tomb his father said he built...

How was he to find out everything? It seemed such an impossible task.

Perhaps, he could ask Ron... but he had to make it sound less conspicious...

* * *

Kit was late down for breakfast that day, opting instead to laze about on his four poster bed, analyzing the Map, racking his brains for ideas and plans until Ron woke up noisily.

Most of the Gryffindors woke around the same time as them both, so there was a troop of loud Gryffindors thundering down the staircase as they made their way to the Great Hall for breakfast together. His timing couldn't have been more perfect as he reached the Common Room portrait hole door. Lavender and Parvati were standing directly behind him. So he did what any other pureblood gentleman would have done; he held open the door for them.

Both of them looked surprised, as Kit had been avoiding them all his stay in Hogwarts, not wanting to attract unwanted attention. But this time, an idea sparking in his head, he managed to give them a small smile, before beckoning for Ron, who was behind Parvati to hurry up.

"They're all over you again," Ron commented, as they heard Parvati and Lavender's giggles as they descended the staircase. "And here I thought they had given up hope on you. Oh and by the way, Damien's not up yet- he's still sleeping, and he told me to go away when I tried waking him up, so I suppose we needn't wait for him."

Kit shrugged, pretending to look nonchalant. That probably had something to do with his spell, then. As they continued on walking together, Kit decided to get directly to the point and ask his question.

"Who is Harry Potter?" he asked abruptly, his tone light, so as not to betray himself.

As expected, Ron immediately stopped short. "What?"

"Harry Potter," repeated Kit, looking completely innocent. "You don't happen to know him, do you?"

"You're asking me who is Harry Potter?" Ron sounded incredulous. "Haven't you read the papers? He's been everywhere!"

Kit shrugged. "I come from abroad, remember? I don't know _anything _about the stories here. I don't even know what the secrecy and protection all around here is for, so I was hoping someone would tell me. Most of the people just stare weirdly at me like you did whenever I ask."

Ron looked mildly stunned. Kit thought he looked a bit pleased, too, at being able to answer Kit's questions. Which suited his purposes perfectly. "Oh okay. You do know who is You- Know- Who, don't you?"

"The Dark Wizard?" Kit pretended to frown. "Yes, I may have heard of something like that. Darkest wizard of all time in Britain."

"Yeah," said Ron, relieved that Kit wouldn't force him to say Voldemort's name aloud. "He's been killing and torturing Muggles and wizards and doing all sorts of evil stuff ever since... well, twenty years ago. Maybe more. He was too powerful, and no one could stop him. But one day, about twenty years ago, this weird prophecy popped up from nowhere, saying that a Chosen One would be born to defeat You- Know- Who."

This wasn't the answer Kit was waiting for, but he was intrigued nevertheless. A prophecy of someone that would defeat Voldemort?

"The prophecy spoke of a child, born at the end of July and some other claptrap I forgot what," Ron continued, not bothering the details. "Anyway, these descriptions pointed to only two children- Neville Longbottom and Harry Potter.

"For some reason the Dark Lord decided that Harry Potter was the Prophesied child, so one day on Halloween night, he sent one of his filthy followers- called Death- Eaters, by the way- to steal Harry Potter from his family. And surely you can make the connection- Harry is- I mean, was, Damien's elder brother."

"So Harry Potter died, just like that?" prompted Kit.

They had now reached the Great Hall. Kit purposely chose a seat farther away from where Hermione was sitting between Ginny and Dean, so that the Muggle- born Witch wouldn't hear their conversation and get suspicious.

"That's what we thought, what Dumbledore thought too," admitted Ron. "But just last year, all of a sudden, Harry Potter came back, alive. After that, he tried to defeat You- Know- Who, and he saved many lives, and a lot happened... but in the end he was killed by You- Know- Who."

Ron dived for more scrambled eggs. Kit felt a bit annoyed. The point he had asked the question was because he wanted to know about what happened last year. Not the prophecy bit, which was probably a cover story made up by Dumbledore to save the Potters' pride when their son ran away.

"I want to know what happened last year," Kit said, showing his interest. "Lavender said she kind of knew this... Harry Potter. She said he attended Hogwarts."

Ron looked surprised, and his expression almost immediately changed into indignance. "She told you that?"

Of course not. Idiot.

Kit looked surprised. "Yeah... was Harry Potter her friend?"

Ron snorted. "As if! Harry didn't want to have anything to do with her, or all the other girls giggling about him. He only hung out with us. Damy, me, Hermione and Ginny." His face softened a bit. "He was a bit scary at first. And his power was mental. I mean, he was really really powerful. Better than maybe even Dumbledore himself. But after that... he became quite a good friend. He was the closest with Damien, actually."

"How did he return?" Kit asked, feeling his pulse rate increase slightly. "After all those years. I thought the Dark Lord killed him when he was a child?"

"You- Know- Who made everyone think that he did just that," Ron said darkly, "but he didn't. He raised Harry as his heir, and trained him into a powerful warrior, and ordered him about to kill and torture like he did his other followers. And Harry was really competent."

Kit tried hard to mask his quiet anger that was beginning to seep out of his control. He took a bite of his bacon rolls so that Ron wouldn't see his eyes, which might have darkened.

"Harry was caught by his _real _father, James Potter, on one of the Auror missions or something," Ron continued, completely unaware of Kit's almost dark blue eyes. "At first, he hated us all. Tried to kill James Potter, in fact, and framed Sirius Black for it. And he snapped my wrist, and it didn't even cost him an effort!" Ron seemed to be proud of that fact.

But already Kit was beginning to get confused. Why would he, Harry have done that? How _could _he have hurt those people, seeing as he was under James Potter's Imperius Curse? Unless he had managed to throw off the spell... but if Harry had managed to ward off the Imperius Curse, wouldn't he have remembered it? Or was this just another story spun by Dumbledore to make things look more realistic, to seem as though he had really converted Harry to the Light after much persuasion and hard work? Somehow, the latter seemed easier to believe... but it did not make complete sense, either.

"Well, Harry was pretty nasty to all of us for quite some time. Only Damien could stand being around him, at first. Until this one time, there was a Daywalker attack on Hogsmeade, and Harry turned up to save our lives. He really has this life- saving thing. He saved my sister Ginny four times, in fact. And you have no idea how cool his moves were! He swished his wand like this-" Ron demonstrated by swinging a German sausage- "and suddenly he transfigured it into a sword, and he stuck it straight-" Ron popped the sausage into his mouth- "into the Daywalker's heart!"

Kit had to refrain from rolling his eyes. "Wow."

"You have no idea how advanced he was at magic!"

"I read a newspaper article, about the Black Tomb," Kit cut across Ron's rant.

Ron sobered immediately. "Yes. That. You- Know- Who created it, he said he wanted to kill Harry Potter for betraying him. Then one day, he managed to capture Ginny and Nigel- Neville's younger brother, to force his son to return to him. Harry immediately surrendered himself, and went storming back to save them both. Said he couldn't let innocents die for his sake. Everyone tried to stop him but they couldn't. He managed to save both Ginny and Nigel in the end... but it cost him his life." Ron fell silent, and he put down his fork, as though his appetite had vanished. "Ginny cried for a whole week. And she never cries. Damien, too. You have no idea how much he had yearned for an elder brother... and he kept following Harry about in Hogwarts, when he was around. Harry was very annoyed at first."

"Can't imagine why," muttered Kit.

"Why did you ask about him, anyway?" Ron asked presently.

"Lavender," Kit replied. "She said I reminded her of him."

Ron looked surprised at that. "Really?" A short pause before, "She kind of has a point."

Kit's eyes narrowed slightly. "Why?"

Ron shrugged, picking up his fork again. "You're both good at Defense- though no offense meant, Harry might be a bit better. Both of you have girls giggling about your looks. Both of you got annoyed by Damien." Ron stopped.

"That's it?" said Kit, who was hoping for more points in which he could correct his acting skills.

"Yeah... no, I don't know," Ron was not very helpful. "Some mannerisms, the way you react... well I don't know." He didn't mention the bit where he saw Kit's eyes turn black. "Sometimes you do remind me of him."

That didn't sound good.

"Really," Kit didn't know what else to say.

Just then, a sleepy Damien appeared beside Ron, yawning widely. The redhead immediately shifted up the bench for Damien to sit beside him. Kit eyed Damien's dirty fingers- which were _still _dusty after they cleaned the second floor without magic last light- with disgust. It did not help that the Gryffindor used those fingers to pick a handful of fries from the plate and stuff it into his mouth.

Kit wondered just how could the Gryffindors stand such filth and decorum. Slytherins were better.

His mouth set in a grim line, and not at all bothering to disguise his annoyance at Damien, Kit got up to leave the table. "I'll see you later at Defense," he told Ron, before slinging his bag over his shoulder to walk away.

On the way out of the Great Hall, however, Kit saw groups of students huddled around in animated discussion, Gryffindors and Slytherins alike, and it was only then when he noticed that the Great Hall was filled with louder noisy chatters than usual. He had been too engrossed in figuring out Ron's story about Harry Potter and wondering about the stories and lies Dumbledore had spun. Feeling decidedly uninterested in whatever the rest of the student population were discussing about, Kit spun round and prepared to leave the hall, when Ron suddenly hailed him, loudly, in the middle of the corridor.

"What?" snapped Kit, sounding rather irritated, before he caught himself.

Ron nearly faltered, but by only a bit. He and Damien were beside themselves with excitement as they said loudly, as though they were miles apart and couldn't hear each other properly, "The duelling club!"

Right. Fabulous. "Oh," said Kit, before turning away. "I'm not very interested. You can go back to your breakfast."

"Hey wait- Kit, you haven't listened yet," Ron said, and Kit forced himself to clear all traces of annoyance from his face before turning around. "This year they're having inter- Houses Duelling matches! And Professor Wynter is going to be the one that elects three members from each Year to enter the Duelling Club. Only those above Third- Years are allowed, though. And every single year, stupid Slytherin wins, as Snape commences the battle!"

Kit didn't see what it had to do with him. "Really," he said. "But I don't think I'm good enough, Ron, so you can go ask Hermione or Neville to enter."

"Kit, you were amazing at every single Defense class! And the Duelling Club is going to be held throughout the week. The first match is _tomorrow- _between Gryffindor and Slytherin- can you believe it? They sure planned it as a surprise! I suppose they wanted to see what the students are naturally capable of. If they let it on early, some people may start to practise hard a whole lot more, and that would be unfair." Kit didn't see Ron's point in this, but the redhead continued anyway, "And the House with most points at the end of the week will win!"

"It's up to Professor Wynter to elect those who get to enter anyway," Kit pointed out. He had been hoping to ask for possible copies of the Daily Prophet before Defense class.

"Exactly! Professor Wynter's bound to choose you," Ron said excitedly, before leaning in closer, "and I hope you'll beat Neville!"

Kit stared, uncomprehending. "We're in the same House," he pointed out.

Ron shrugged. "There will be a Best Dueller prize given at the end of the week. If both of you emerge as champions, then you'll have to duel each other for the Best Dueller prize... though either way it's going to win Gryffindor 150 points in the match!"

Kit really couldn't be bothered. But he pretended to quirk a smile and said, "You know, that actually sounds interesting," which directly contradicted his first statement about the Duelling Club, but of course Ron didn't notice a thing.

"It does, doesn't it? I couldn't wait to tell you. I just found out after talking to Damien! I wasn't looking at the notice board when I exited the Common Room, I guess."

Speaking of which, Ron seemed to notice that Damien had disappeared as well. He had been following Ron when the redhead made to talk to Kit. Ron looked back and noticed that the youngest Potter was sitting at the Gryffindor table alone, moodily prodding his chicken.

"I'd better go see what's up with him," said Ron, looking a little less excited than before. "See you later at Defense?"

"Sure."

Kit shrugged and walked away, towards the library.

* * *

Back at the Gryffindor table, Damien seemed to have lost all previous elation he had for the Duelling Club. Ron plopped himself directly beside his friend and looked closely at the youngest Potter.

"What's wrong?" he asked, completely uncomprehending of Damien's sudden change in demeanor.

Damien's eyes flickered up and roved around the hall, as though ensuring no one would eavesdrop on their conversation, before saying in a low voice, "I can't enter the Duelling Club, Ron. But I really _really _wanted to. And thanks to Harry's training last year, I performed best in the class in the last Defense lesson! What if Professor Wynter chooses me to enter?"

"Well then why not?" Ron asked, genuinely surprised. "What's stopping you?"

Damien pursed his lips. "The Layhoo Jisteen, remember?"

"Oh," said Ron, comprehension dawning. "Well, you could always make sure you throw up a shield whenever a spell comes heading your way, just so it won't be cheating?"

"It will be cheating, no matter what," Damien said moodily. "And I'd rather withdraw than cheat, worse still, what if the entire student population of Hogwarts finds out? It'll be weird if a spell I fail to block just fizzles and dies out. Dumbledore and McGonagall knows about it already anyway."

Ron suddenly brightened. "I know, why don't you take it off before the duel then? You can always put it on after that. Surely it can't hurt. Hogwarts is as safe as anywhere."

Damien looked unsure, but already a small smile was making its way to his face.

"That is an idea..."

* * *

In Defense class, Professor Wynter told them they would be focusing on Shield Charms that day. He said that the most important thing in a duel was to be able to dodge and defend oneself, not to fire or attack. Therefore, it was speculated that whoever that managed to do best in defense class that day would be elected to enter the Duelling Club.

At first, they practised in pairs of one- to- one, the first person fired the strongest (but not dark curses) they could at the second, who would use the _protego _charm to deflect the spell. Whether it was most fortunate or unfortunate, they did not know, but Neville was paired up with Kit.

And the worst thing was, Kit was supposed to shield, and Neville was to fire.

Normally, Kit would have no qualms regarding that, but he wasn't going to throw up his full body shield in front of a class of incompetent students. That would put him under too bright a spotlight, and it would be suspicious as to where he learnt to perform such a strong shield. Not to mention he wasn't sure if Harry had performed the spell when he had been under the Crustacius Curse...

It didn't help that many people stopped just to watch Kit and Neville. And the way Neville seemed to be firing at him randomly, looking _bored, _made Kit annoyed, and therefore rather determined not to lose, if not prove his true ablities, to the boy.

Kit held up his shield- not a full body shield, but a translucent mirror of silver mist, that deflected the spells reasonably well. Neville's spells fizzled and died out every time it hit the barrier. Looking somewhat less bored, Neville's spells started to increase in power, but still Kit held on determinedly. It was harder than he had expected to fight back his instincts, and let his full body shield blossom before him.

"Longbottom, that is enough," Professor Wynter said suddenly, much to everyone's disappointment.

Neville obliged, turning around to face the Professor, wiping the sweat from his brow.

"Now, fire the strongest spell you can at me. No dark curses allowed, though," Professor Wynter told Neville. The younger of the pair looked surprised, but obliged. He narrowed his eyes in concentration, and a strong pulse of red light immediately ignited his wand, and he sent it speeding in Professor Wynter's direction.

Professor Wynter threw up his full body shield, which made everyone in the class except Kit (who then decided to consider Wynter as a competent Professor) gasp in amazement. Wynter's shield was a green orb, beautiful, but as Ron and Hermione knew, not as strong as Harry's. Harry's shield was a dazzling; brilliant blue; Wynter's was just considered bright enough. But it seemed to do the trick, as upon impact, Neville's spell died, but so did the shield.

The whole class was silent.

"Your spells are strong," commented Wynter lightly, approaching Neville.

Neville merely shrugged. "I've been trained all my life, sir."

"Let me test your abilities. Throw up your shield, boy," Professor Wynter said as he turned his back on Neville and walked back to the front of the class.

Suddenly, Wynter whirled around with lightning speed, and a pulsing beam of yellow light shot out from his wand. It shot past Neville's shimmering half- yellow half- silver shield, not even making impact.

It wasn't meant for Neville.

Kit's instincts kicked it immediately, and he swerved out of the way at the last second. The spell shot past his ear and hit the table behind them, which promptly toppled over.

Silence fell over the threshold, as the spotlight naturally fell onto Kit, whose eyes were a little darker than before.

Wynter's eyes were gleaming as he looked at Kit, who narrowed his slightly.

"I knew you were more than that," he said, quietly, eyes still on Kit.

"I don't know what you mean, sir," Kit replied evenly, looking straight back at Wynter.

Suddenly, without even turning, Wynter fired another spell. Neville's eyes widened slightly, and he hastily conjured a shield. The shield did manage to fend off the spell, but the impact still managed to knock Neville backwards slightly.

"You see," Professor Wynter said, still looking at Kit, a small smirk playing on his lips, "Longbottom only just managed to deflect my spells, which were fired without warning. But he has undergone training all his life." He paused, and Kit felt his pulse quickening, as all eyes fell upon him. "What about you, Mason?"

"My father provided with me with the best Defense tutor when I was young," Kit replied quietly.

"So you too, have been trained in combat all your life?"

"Not exactly."

Wynter approached him, stopping only two metres away. "Show me your shield, Mason."

Warily, Kit threw up his shield, once again fighting his instincts, but only channelling a small portion of magic to fuel the mirror of silvery mist.

"_Reducto," _hissed Wynter suddenly, a jet of red light thundering out of his wand.

Again his instincts took over, and Kit's magic promptly strengthened his shield sub- consciously, causing the mist to glow a bright blue, before Wynter's spell fizzled and died.

Kit had to cast another glamour over his eyes for fear they had darkened again. What happened to no dark curses allowed? _Reducto _was a potentially harmful spell, and Wynter's spell power was strong. It told Kit one thing- Wynter was confident about what Kit was actually capable of.

That thought was not in the least comforting.

Wynter smiled, as though satisfied. "Good," he said, before turning back to the class. He told them to split into Groups once more, to practise dodging, attacking and the Shield Charm, his usual smirk back in place. As though nothing had happened.

But Kit could not shake off the wary feeling that he was constantly being watched and tested, because he couldn't trust the cunning man. Even more so because he knew who the man truly was, yet had never heard of him before- Regulus Acturus Black.

* * *

Back at Riddle Manor, Voldemort was viewing Harry's memories with increasing distaste. He didn't like the fact that Harry seemed to genuinely care a whole lot more than he should about his biological family, the blood traitors, the Mudblood and _innocents. _

In truth, Voldemort had also removed Harry's memories about his saving Madam Pomfrey's children, letting the Longbottoms live and saving the Weasley girl, for the first time, during the Death- Eater raid at Hogsmeade. It wouldn't do for his son to remember that once upon a time, the Dark Prince had such a strong conscience to protect innocents.

It didn't help Harry's mission that Voldemort had destroyed Harry's old wand as well, the one that could perform undetectable magic. He had presented his son with another one of his own, and he could tell that his son was reasonably pleased with the magic he could perform with it. However, Voldemort had never forgotten what Harry had said before- "_Your wand, even with different allegiances, responds to me just as good as my own."_

The phoenix feather core wand.

He had been meaning to get one for Harry before the boy left for his mission, but Hogsmeade had been well protected at that time, as the Ministry had not been as weak as it was now. Perhaps a new wand would be Harry's present when his son returned from Hogwarts a week later.

A few minutes later, there came a hesitant knock on the door.

"Enter," Voldemort said without looking up.

The door was opened and shut quietly by itself after Lucius Malfoy entered. He bowed low before the Dark Lord before rising at Voldemort's gesture.

"You asked to see me, my Lord?" Lucius asked, his eyes still fixed on the patch of floor before him.

"Go to Hogsmeade," Voldemort ordered. "and bring me the old wandmaker, Ollivander, by nightfall. Make sure you do not leave a trail."

Lucius nodded. "Yes, my Lord."

Lucius backed away and exited the same way he came, his mind already toying with various ideas. He knew perfectly well how to handle this. In fact, it would be all too easy...

* * *

At dinner that day, the Gryffindors were already discussing animatedly as to who was chosen who was not. That evening's match would be commencing between Fourth and Seventh Years from Gryffindor and Slytherin House, as Professor Wynter had not elected any Fifth or Sixth Years. And they would be duelling in pairs.

After everyone had eaten their fill, the dessert disappeared off the table, and the entire student population fell in expectant silence, waiting for the Duelling Club, which this year seemed to be as big an occassion as Quidditch, to start.

At first, Dumbledore came forward and gave his speech as usual. He explained the rules and regulations with much detail for a full seven minutes. He told them the main objective of the Duelling Club was to prepare the students against the war raging outside. He warned them about dark curses. And he talked and talked and talked until the previous euphoria towards the Duelling Club almost evaporated, before saying, "And now, without further ado, let us introduce our contestants of Fourth and Seventh Year students, from Gryffindor and Slytherin House. When I call out your names, kindly step forwards to the podium..."

A buzz of excited chatter rose to fill the Hall once more. Damien was also jumpy with excitement, unable to contain himself. Beside him, he felt Ron muttering in a pessimistic tone, "I don't think I'll get it. Kit and Neville were too good, and Professor Wynter was too impressed by Hermione's wide range of spells. No no. I don't think I'll get it. Anyway, I'll get to watch it- I'm not such a good dueller anyway-" until Damien felt like clopping Ron's head with his plate.

"I will first start with the Fourth Years from Slytherin House. Rosier! Nott! Mulciber!"

"Of course it would be them," Ron muttered darkly over the loud claps from Slytherin House. "All the filthy little Death- Eaters."

"From Gryffindor House: Jimmy Peakes! Sarah Abbot! Damien Potter!"

"YES!" Damien said loudly, punching his fist into the air. For a moment, as he practically skipped towards the stage, he had a bittersweet longing for Harry to see him then, just so he could gloat. He wasn't completely helpless at Defense, as Harry put it!

"For the Seventh Years from Slytherin House," began Dumbledore again, "Blaise Zabini! Draco Malfoy! Vincent Crabbe!"

"_Crabbe?" _said Ron in utter disbelief, to no one in particular. "How on earth did he get up there?"

"For the Seventh Years from Gryffindor House," Dumbledore continued, his voice carrying over the loud applause, "Kit Mason! Neville Longbottom! Hermione Granger!"

"I knew it," muttered Ron, feeling somewhat put out that all his best friends had managed to get into the Duelling Club except him. Hermione glanced at him, a bit apprehensively at first, but he gave her an assuring smile, and beaming at him, Hermione hugged him briefly and turned to walk towards the stage. That made Ron feel a whole lot better, and he joined in Dean and Seamus, clapping loudly for their House members.

Applause was ringing, loud and deafening in the entire Hall. Dumbledore beamed on the stage, surveying the crowd of enthusiastic students and proud contestants before him. He allowed the cheering to go on for a full minute, before raising both his hands for silence. Slowly, the chatter died down, as the students paid their respective attentions.

"Tonight, we are going to decide the participants of the duel between Slytherin and Gryffindor for the Duelling Club held tomorrow. Will all the Fourth Year participants please step forward."

Even as he spoke, Dumbledore raised his wand and conjured a golden goblet from thin air. There were plenty of lemon drops in them. He gestured at the Fourth- Years to each draw a sweet from the goblet.

Feeling completely nonplussed, all of them obeyed nevertheless. At first, all the sweets they held in their respective hands were yellow in colour. But suddenly, there was a cry when Rosier Jr.'s lemon drop turned a brilliant green. He looked up to see who his opponent was and found himself looking at Damien Potter, who was holding a ruby red lemon drop.

Dumbledore smiled. "Potter and Rosier will be duelling each other in tomorrow's match. As you will be duelling in pairs, each of you are allowed to choose your own partner from the three Seventh- Year participants here from your own House. You may think over your choice tonight. But when you have announced your decision by tomorrow before the duel begins, you may not switch choices."

Damien was already grinning somewhat evilly at Kit even as Dumbledore motioned for them to descend the stage.

Kit avoided his gaze altogether and managed to shove the youngest Potter away when he made to say something directly in his ear- a very annoying habit.

"You'd better not think about it," he warned.

All he got was a grin in reply.

**A/N: Surprise! A quick update for my treasured readers for your encouragement! :D Do tell me if you liked this chapter or not! Was Wynter's intentions to test Kit's abilities very obvious? I was rather proud of that bit. Don't ask me why.**

**Rating system:**

**':D' for awesome**

**'.' for lovely**

**''O' for okay and**

**'X' for terrible.**

**Please do rate or review! Leave the poor writer who has spent an entire day writing a single chapter a little thought, won't you? ;)**

**Cheers,  
Epsilon Scorpii**


	15. Chapter 15: Unfitting Puzzles

**The Second Chance**

DISCLAIMER: I do not own anything of Harry Potter. This story is inspired by Kurinoone's awesome story 'The Darkness Within', which was inspired by Project Dark Overlord's wonderful fic- 'A Shattered Prophesy'.

**Thanks SO much to those who reviewed in the last chapter:** _Draco, Jessica, Jaffaninja, Lauraw18, Phoenixx Rising, Ash- Bookworm 113, rainydayluver, . , G, coolchickdiv, kimco96, Kurinoone's fan, Reader, v1cky84, Jayjaypotter13, LadyGriffin17, BlueWater5, Raawr, Oirasse, Sushi, Kurinoone, Biaa Black Potter, HazelMidnight20918 and Tom Kristal, _**your reviews were so wonderful I really couldn't have done without them! This chapter is dedicated specially to you, my faithful reviewers! :D**

* * *

**Chapter 15: Unfitting Puzzles**

James had been beside himself with guilt and worry since the day he lost his best friend to the Death- Eaters during Greville Town's raid. Fear stabbed his heart constantly, reminding him of his faults. He shouldn't have used Sirius as a bait as well; he should have done it himself! And he shouldn't have left Sirius to raise the barrier to protect the Muggle town all alone, he should have helped; Sirius would not have been weak to the point of collasping due to the sheer strength of his shield.

But no, all the great James Potter managed to achieve was to hurt, and possibly aggravate Sirius' injuries during the last moments before James was transported back to Potter Manor, reasonably unscathed, yet broken inside, due to the merciless blade of guilt.

It had been a day. 20 hours since the raid, to be precise. But James was still sitting there, by the hearth rug, constantly alert, hoping of news from the Order or the Ministry that might lead to a way of him being able to bring back Sirius Black.

Then, inevitably, the black hawk they had seen once before arrived at the window.

There was no one else in the living room, only James, and the thoughts that haunted his mind. Lily was still in the kitchen, trying to cook up a meal that would tease her husband's appetite, although her previous attempts were futile. It reminded Lily of when she had been trying to get her first son, Harry, to eat something. James was just as equally stubborn.

She, though with unshed tears glistening in her eyes, had tried to comfort her husband, but he was a Marauder, and he wouldn't forgive himself, nor did he ever give up hope.

And that was the card the Dark Lord had been all too eager to play.

The large black bird soared through the window, and landed lightly right before James, depositing a ragged piece of parchment in James' lap. Already knowing what was coming, James lifted the parchment warily, his eyes still trained on the bird.

"_Come to Greville Hill at midnight tonight, alone. You should know better than to refuse me."_

The black hawk continued glaring at James, its amber eyes reminding James of the ruby red ones owned by its master; before it flew away, like a fading memory of a nightmare.

And as Lily came out of the kitchen, holding a large freshly baked bacon and egg pie, James put on a smile, and went forwards to help her lay it on the table, his right hand slipping the small note secretly into his pocket.

* * *

Kit was not in a good mood that day.

He had woke up at the ungodly hour of a quarter to five in the morning due to the sudden sharp pain in his scar, which was caused, unbeknowst to him, by Ollivander, who had managed to anger the Dark Lord after insisting he was powerless to make a wand for an owner in which he was not allowed to see, nor test said person's aura. It became more and more unbearable until the point it started to bleed, red seeping through his fingers rapidly.

Cursing under his breath, Kit used one hand to flip his trunk open, and wandlessly revealed a secret compartment. There were twenty vials of various Potions aligned neatly in the trunk. Quickly, Kit selected a pain- relief and blood- clotting potion, before uncorking both vials and downing them in one go. The pain had lessened, if only by a little, but at least he could now think clearly, and his scar was no longer bleeding.

Not wanting to experience more migraines due to downing too much potions on an empty stomach, Kit siphoned the blood off his face using magic, and grudgingly made his way down to the Great Hall, wondering if the House Elves had already prepared breakfast.

He walked silently, only sticking to the shadows, his keen blue eyes roving around the dark corridor. No one else was in sight.

Upon reaching the Great Hall, however, Kit, to his surprise, found himself looking at five House- Elves, who were busy laying out the table, and one other House Elf actually _talking _to one of the students. On closer inspection, Kit realized that the student was actually a Gryffindor girl- and more accurately, Ginevra Weasley.

Well, he never expected her to be an early- riser.

The House- Elf whom she was speaking to realized Kit's presence first. It stopped in mid- speech, colour tinging its cheeks, before backing away hurriedly. The chatter of the rest of the House Elves faded away gradually, and seven pairs of eyes fell onto Kit.

The Weasley girl, Ginevra, turned around, looking surprised and a bit wary, before relaxing as Kit stepped out of the shadows.

"Good morning, Kit," she said brightly. "I knew you were one to wake early, but I never imagined your waking hours to be _this _ungodly."

"It's more of a surprise for me to find you here," Kit replied with a small polite smile he commonly associated with the rest of the Hogwarts population whom he didn't know so well. "After all, you and Ron never seem to wake up before nine."

Ginny half- laughed, half- pouted. "We're not _that _bad," she said, before turning around to face the other House Elves, who were still frozen to the spot, unsure if it were manners to Disapparate before greeting the newcomer- Kit.

Smiling gently, she tugged one of the House Elves forwards- the one she had been speaking to previously, and told Kit, "This is my friend Winky. She has been here for two years, ever since the Triwizard Tournament."

Kit had to hide his expression of disgust and incredubility as Ginny introduced the filthy, pathetic creature before her as 'she'. But he nodded politely and put on a smile, as though it were the most common thing to have a House Elf as a friend, and held out a hand, though he loathed himself for doing it.

"A pleasure to meet you, Winky. I am Kit Mason."

Harry would have been taken aback by the eerie resemblance between his glamoured self and Tom Riddle Jr. had he seen his own reflection then; their charming smiles were just too identical to slip by unnoticed.

Timidly, Winky shuffled forwards, after being prompted by Ginny, though she did not take the proferred hand, but bowed to Kit so low, her nose nearly touched the ground.

"The pleasure is all mine, sir," she squeaked.

"Now, there is no need for that," Kit gestured for her to get up, using the excuse to withdraw his hand with a barely concealed air of relief.

"See? I told you that nobody thinks House Elves are of lower status than wizards," Ginny told Winky with a grin, before adding an afterthought, "except for some big- headed pureblood Slytherins, but ignore them."

Winky looked up timidly, blushing. "Is Kit Mason sir like Miss Weasley and Miss Granger, then? Does Kit Mason sir regard all House Elves as... equals," the last part was whispered.

Kit smiled charmingly. "Of course, Miss Winky. Why should you be any different from us wizards, or as the goblins call it... wand- carriers? We are all magical, but mortal beings. We have much in common. Status should not exist in the magical world, as we are all equals."

Ginny flashed Kit a thumbs- up as Winky blushed even harder and looked at the floor, and the other House- Elves shifted uncomfortably in the background, before choosing to Disapparate as quietly as they could, so no one would notice.

"K-Kit Mason sir, sir is too kind," Winky mumbled and stammered, her face growing redder and redder with each word. "H-House Elves, we live to serve wizards, it is our duty, tis the Sole Living Purpose..."

"Indeed," said Kit, "and it is time Wizards learnt from your noble kind."

Winky flushed even harder, if that was possible, and Kit spoke up kindly before Ginny could, "I hope I have not made you feel uncomfortable, Miss Winky. That was not my intention, and I apologise if I have made you feel so. Now, I shall waste no more of your valuable time. Please do send my regards to the other House- Elves, and thank you for laying out breakfast for us. It is much appreciated."

This overwhelming and smoothly delivered flattery left a red Winky with no choice but to stammer her thanks and quickly Disapparate from their sight. For a moment, there was silence, before Ginny caught Kit's eye and began to laugh.

"You sounded as though you were delivering a speech," she said, as they sat down together at the Gryffindor table, helping themselves to the magically heated food. "I've never seen Winky look so flustered."

Kit quirked an innocent smile, suddenly adopting very much to Tom Riddle Junior's expressions. "I assure you, those words were from my very heart."

That just made Ginny laugh, before she helped herself to more French toast.

A sudden stabbing pain in his forehead and a wave of dizziness overcame Kit, and it reminded him of his downing Potions on an empty stomach. Not wanting his headache to worsen, he quickly helped himself to some porridge, ignoring the large dollop of honey in the porridge bowl. It might have been a trait inherited from Voldemort, but he did not like sweet food much.

"That's got to be completely tasteless," commented Ginny as Kit finished his porridge, leaving the honey untouched.

Kit merely shrugged in reply. "I don't like sweet things."

"One of my friends used to be just like you," she said, her tone suddenly a bit softer, before she turned away and reached out for some bacon.

"Would you like some?" she said, brandishing a spoonful of scrambled eggs in Kit's direction. Kit accepted it with thanks distractedly, his mind elsewhere.

He suddenly thought he might know the 'friend' Ginny spoke of. Hopefully it wasn't who he thought it was, or it would just mean that he had to improve his acting skills to avoid suspicion...

Did that mean he had to fake his likes and dislikes as well?

At that thought, he deliberately reached for some oily fries, and upended plenty of barbeque sauce on it, before dropping his fork and starting to eat with his hands. Ginny eyed him in amusement.

"Sometimes you really remind me of Ron."

Kit didn't know whether to feel pleased or insulted.

* * *

It turned out, after hearing the conversation during breakfast, that Damien was actually still having a dilemma on who to pick as his duelling partner that evening, and that Damien had merely eyed Kit just to annoy Kit and give a false impression that he would be choosing the transfer student as his partner.

At first, Damien had been certain about his choice of choosing Hermione as his partner- they had trained together a few times before, under Harry's supervision. But as Ron, ever the chess- master pointed out, Gryffindor would be against Slytherin tonight, and the latter house had a reputation of using dark spells, in which Hermione's wide range of knowledge of various handy spells wouldn't come into much use. Neville was out of the question, as Damien never really liked the boy, but Kit... well, the transfer student was nice to annoy.

And Damien wasn't still sore about being caught talking to 'his snowy'!

Ron kept on insisting that Damien should choose Kit as his partner, as Kit was well- known for his strong shield and lightning fast reflexes, ever since the Defense lesson only yesterday. But Kit had adamantly refused, but not without hesitation. He liked duels and challenges, that much Ron did know.

In the end, Ron made Damien ask Kit himself. "It will show more sincerity on your behalf, instead of me being the go- between," he reasoned.

Grudgingly, Damien had obliged. He sidled up to the transfer student who promptly ignored him, then slid neatly into the seat beside Kit.

He didn't much like the idea of asking Kit to be his duelling partner- it sounded as though he were _asking _for the elder Gryffindor's help, which he'd rather starve for a day than do, but Ron's theorizing was just too logical to ignore. It didn't help that Hermione supported Ron whole- heartedly.

Kit continued to ignore the younger boy.

Gritting his teeth and plastering a bright smile, (and assuring himself he was only asking Kit to annoy the boy), Damien said, "Would you like to be my duelling partner tonight?"

The words had barely left his tongue before Damien cringed inwardly at how much it sounded like "Would you like to be my dancing partner tonight?". Kit, too, apparently had the same train of thought, for he smirk made its way to his face, and Damien felt the overwhelming urge to wipe it off.

"Well, answer me," Damien snapped. "I need to make a decision, and fast."

"Why are you asking me, Potter?" Kit said, smiling sweetly. "Surely you have _better friends-"_

"Well, I want to annoy you!" Damien cut across, imitating Kit's smile to perfection.

"Then thank you, but no thanks. I'm not wasting my evening just to be a source of entertainment," Kit said briskly, his tone final as he got up.

"Hey!" Damien said, before jumping out of his seat and following Harry out of the Hall, talking non- stop as he walked backwards, all the while trying to keep up with Kit as well.

"Go choose someone else," Kit said irritably. "And for goodness' sake stop bothering me. You really do know how to hold a grudge, don't you?"

"What's that supposed to mean?" said Damien indignantly.

"Well, clearly, you're still sore about being caught talking to your snowy, that's why you're still trying to annoy and get back at me."

"For goodness' sake!" spluttered Damien. "_I- am NOT!"_

Kit's insides soared with triumph at the youngest Potter's annoyance. "Whatever you say."

He turned to walk down a deserted corridor, which was a long walk, but would eventually lead to the library... providing the staircases cooperated. But he could always make them. At least, he could try...

"Look, this has nothing to do with Hedwig," Damien began again. "All you need to do is-"

"-forget it," Kit cut across him in a sing- song voice, smirking as he did so. "You won't be getting your way this time."

Damien was exasperated and beyond irritated. "Can't you just listen-"

"- I refuse," Kit interrupted again, knowing all too well that he was serving to annoy the younger wizard further. "Do you seriously think I'd be idiotic enough to agree _entertain _you for the entire evening when I have much better things to be focusing on-"

"I'm asking you this _because I want Gryffindor to win!" _Damien's voice rose, loud, over Kit's.

The elder boy stopped, looking at Damien weirdly.

Damien's face was red, possibly because he was tired of keeping up with Kit's quick strides and chattering non- stop at the same time.

"Let me get this straight," Kit said with a condescending tone, "You think that _I _am the best chance you have of winning."

"Yes, but just because Ron says so," Damien admitted, though he felt the need to add the last part just so not to inflate Kit's ego.

"And I think Ron has misjudged my abilities," Kit said evenly.

Damien suddenly wondered if Kit was psychotic- he certainly had alter personalities. One moment he was smirking with an inflated ego, the next moment he was serious and humbling his abilities.

"Well, I trust Ron, even though I don't _really_ trust you, and if he says you're the best chance of us winning, then I want you as my duelling partner," Damien reasoned everything out, not letting Kit having the possible chance of gloating if he chose to. But hoping Kit would change his mind, Damien felt obliged to add, "Though it seems that it is a fact that your shield is remarkably strong."

"So basically you want me up there to protect your sorry behind constantly," Kit said, with a hint of laughter in his voice.

"You'd better hope it's not the other way round," snapped back Damien.

"I assure you, it won't be... but there is a condition," Kit said, his eyes quite suddenly a shade darker, though Damien merely attributed it to the shadows.

"What's that?" Damien said, warily.

"I refuse to lose to the Slytherins, especially not on my first week at Hogwarts," Kit said, his smile sly in a dangerous yet familiar sort of way. "I need to know what you are actually capable of, your strengths and weaknesses, so we can coordinate better."

Damien eyed him with a raised eyebrow. "You really care a lot about appearances, huh? First Transfiguration and now this."

Kit raised his eyebrow in return. "Enlighten me. Was I misguided to think that you felt the same way?"

"I want to beat the slimy Slytherins more than you do!" said Damien at once, with barely hidden indignance. "What time do you have in mind? The duel starts directly after dinner."

"Then we'll just have to skip dinner," said Kit with a shrug.

"What?" moaned Damien. "That's a heavy price to pay. I can't perform well on an empty stomach."

"Something light, then," Kit relented. "Do you have an appropriate place in mind?"

Damien thought for a moment before replying. "There's a room, it's called the Room of Requirement, on the seventh floor. I'll take you up there after your last class this evening."

"Perfect," said Kit with a smile. "See you, then."

He slung his back over his shoulder, pleased, as he walked away towards the library, leaving a seemingly excited Damien behind.

Finally, he would be able to find out the truth...

* * *

That evening approached slowly, with Damien getting increasingly edgy towards the evening. Truth to be told, he was interested to witness for himself how skilled Kit was at duelling, as all he had ever heard were stories told by Ron or the other Gryffindors about how good Kit was at Defense, considering he was only a transfer student from a school unheard before, and was maybe just as good as Neville himself.

Damien thought his standards were considered pretty good against his fellow classmates, but then again, Rosier Jr. had always been his main rival, and Damien secretly thought he was a pretty tough opponent to beat. The Slytherin was deadly fast, just like a snake. And Damien would be duelling against another Seventh- Year Slytherin as well, though presumably Kit was going to deal with the more experienced dueller, whoever Rosier may choose.

Hopefully it would be Crabbe... surely that big bloke shouldn't pose much of a threat.

The youngest Potter had removed the Layhoo Jisteen from his neck earlier that morning, stowing it into the secret compartment of his trunk under his bed. However, the sudden absence of the heavy but comfortable weight around his neck left Damien with a feeling of extreme unease, especially as he recalled Harry's words and his elder brother's warnings about removing the stone. But any other second misgivings were conveniently forgotten as all his fellow Gryffindors wished him luck and gave him tips on winning the duel later.

As a result of wondering about every possible outcome of the duel that evening, Damien failed to pay attention in class, which resulted in extra homework by both Professor Snape and Professor McGonagall. However, even the large pile of homework and facing the possible prospect of detention could stop Damien's mind from wandering.

When evening finally came, Damien hurriedly walked back from Herbology and made his way to the Gryffindor Common Room to meet Kit, pausing only to snag a piece of toast from their table as he left the Great Hall. It did not slip his notice that Rosier was not at the Slytherin table either,and he was starting to feel anxious. He had to win this duel, especially in front of Kit, _especially especially _against Slytherin!

With these thoughts, a preoccupied Damien made his way up the stairs, barely acknowledging the friendly thumps, encouraging words and questions the Gryffindors, regardless of age, hurled at him. All of them wanted to win, just as badly as the Slytherins did.

When he finally arrived at the Gryffindor Common Room, Damien found that Kit was already there, lounging in one of the sofas, looking for some reason, more... serious, and subdued, than Damien had ever seen him before. On seeing the younger wizard enter, Kit looked up.

"You're late," he said, his voice quiet, very much unlike the time Damien had tried persuading Kit to be his partner in the Duelling Club.

Damien checked his watch and scowled. "By only three minutes!" he said indignantly.

The barest hint of a smirk crossed Kit's features. "It still doesn't change the fact." He got up and walked towards the door. "Lead the way then, Potter. To the Room of Requirement."

Damien scowled for the second time in a minute, before reluctantly agreeing to do so. He never liked taking orders. And Kit's somewhat bossy and irritating manner was not helping one bit. But that would be the usual Kit, the one that was unknowingly drawn into Damien's bicker over pointless things. This Kit somehow seemed more... foreign, than the one he had met four days ago.

Briefly, Damien felt a bit startled. To think it had only been four days ago! It felt like ages... or maybe two weeks, since Hogwarts had reopened.

"Are you going to lead the way or are you going to stand there and scratch your head until the duel begins?" snapped Kit irritably to his right.

Damien's reverie promptly shattered into a thousand pieces. "Well, you wouldn't need me to show the way if you had read Hogwarts; A History properly before coming, would you, new boy?" Damien retorted testily, though he knew what he said was far from the truth. The Room of Requirement was never clearly stated to exist in Hogwarts by Bathilda Bagshot; there was only a vague description of it, and needless to say, the location of the Room was not written in the book.

Kit seemed to know that fact because he replied, "Just so you know, I've read the entire book before and there is not a single mention of the Room of Requirement in it, unless you're referring to the Room of Now and Then. And even that was only a _mild description."_

"Now don't you just sound like Hermione," muttered Damien as they continued their way past the Third- Floor corridor.

Kit followed Damien past many unused classrooms, up flights of stairs, all the while fingering his wand slightly, unsure whether he was prepared for what he was about to do. His father had vehemently denied him the truth, and had forbidden him to seek it any longer, but this was something even his father could never understand; it was his right to know what had happened; it was his memories, and therefore he had every right to claim them back.

They finally arrived at a blank wall in the Seventh- Floor corridor, Damien pausing and closing his eyes, presumably to concentrate on making the room suit his needs.

A few minutes ticked past silently, before a door suddenly materialized before them. Damien seemed unaware of that fact, and continued pacing up and down, until Kit nudged the boy; albeilt a little too hard. The youngest Potter nearly fell over, and glared up at Kit as fiercely as he could.

Of course it had no whatsoever effect on the Dark Prince who had grew up under Voldemort. Kit merely smirked and turned the handles of the door, letting them both inside. Damien hastened to follow, and once both of them were in, the door vanished behind them, as though it had never been.

"It's a cool room, isn't it?" Damien seemed to have forgotten his previous annoyance at Kit, and seemed to be admiring every angle of the room, though Kit didn't see a single object that deserved his admiration. "Me and Ron discovered it back in my Second- Year. We were wandering about at night when Filch nearly caught us... and we started to run. I don't know which of us did it, but we were both thinking of a place to hide when the door suddenly materialized before us."

Damien stopped as he noticed Kit's silence. This was somewhat weird of Kit, as Damien had expected a snappy retort to 'shut up now' by then. But Kit was merely looking at him, his face emotionless, causing a small chill to crawl up Damien's spine.

"What's wrong with you?" the youngest Potter frowned, scrutinising the elder boy. "I thought you would have shouted at me to shut up by now... or are you really nervous about the duel?"

Kit snorted, his old self for the moment. "As if."

That made Damien grin, as though he had confirmed the fact.

"Is this room sound- proof?" Kit asked, strolling around casually, as though taking in his surroundings. There was nothing in the room except two comfortable- looking sofas placed in two opposite corners, and a thick red carpet on the floor.

"Yes it is," Damien confirmed. "I was very specific about it... this room is completely sound- proof, fire- proof and intruder- proof... if that's a word. No one can enter this room or see this room without either you or me allowing it."

"Good. Thank you."

And Kit spun round, a jet of red light thundering out of his wand, towards Damien.

Damien, on his part, managed to draw his wand and fire a Stunner fast enough, thanks to the many unexpected and grueling training he had to endure when Harry had been training him. However, Kit had send three jets of red light speeding in his direction, therefore taking no chances. The youngest Potter failed to avoid two of them. He could only stumble backwards, as though disbelieving, before slumping, unconscious to the ground.

* * *

Kit stepped neatly out of the way of Damien's Stunner, mildly impressed by the apparently clumsy Gryffindor's reflexes. He watched as Damien's disbelieving eyes widened, before the younger wizard blacked out completely, falling forwards like a puppet without a string.

Quickly, Kit stepped forwards, tilting Damien's head backwards before producing a vial of colourless liquid, seemingly from thin air. He dripped three drops of Veritaserum onto the Gryffindor's tongue, before forcing the younger boy to swallow it.

It was a disorientated and half- conscious Damien that came to, some three minutes later, his eyes surveying the scene before him. His eyes widened, if only slightly, when Kit approached him, his eyes now unmistakably dark and dangerous.

Kit stood before Damien for a while, before crouching down, like a predator, causing Damien to flinch slightly, but he was powerless to do anything but lie there, completely defenseless. His mind was a complete whirl, his brain numbed- he couldn't think!- but deep inside Damien could feel fear clawing at his heart. He couldn't move his legs; hands… he couldn't even _feel _his limbs.

"I have questions for you," Kit started, his eyes dark and penetrating, boring holes into Damien's half- closed ones. "A year ago, how was Harry Potter captured by the Order?"

The youngest Potter's heart was hammering wildly, but there was nothing he could do; he couldn't even control his mouth. The words were spat out much against his will, despite his fear and uncertainty about Kit's true identity…

"The Order laid a false trap… my dad caught him."

His words were slurred, his breath coming in fast gasps, but he was completely helpless. Kit smiled, one dark and dangerous, that Damien would have flinched if he could.

"What happened after he was captured?" Kit asked the second question.

Once again, the words were forced out against his will…

"H-Harry was imprisoned in the Headquarters, after they removed his mask... and revealed his true identity."

"Tell me everything," Kit ordered, a steely glint in his eye. "Leave out no details. I want to know everything that happened after Harry was caught last year…"

Kit flicked his wand, and suddenly the words were tumbling out, beyond Damien's control.

"Dad and mum told me Harry hated them in particular, though they did not know why. They never told me of his existence, until the second day after they found Harry. But they wouldn't let me see him.

"I begged them, hard, because I wanted to meet my elder brother, but they wouldn't relent. So one day, I snuck into the Headquarters under my dad's Invisibility Cloak, and found him. I never doubted his identity the moment I saw Harry… he looked exactly like my father, except he had mum's green eyes... He wasn't the ideal elder brother in my dreams, but he was better than what I imagined. Dad and mum were really mad when they found out what I'd done… they seemed to think that Harry was dangerous, and I shouldn't be by his side.

"Then Professor Dumbledore had an idea, to send Harry to Hogwarts, and give him a chance to mix in with students his own age. Harry was very angry at first, when he came to school. He broke Ron's wrist, and called Hermione a filthy name… at first I was furious at him for hurting my friends, but then, slowly, he started to change.

"It first started when he saved Ginny during Quidditch Tryouts... and I had my first game of racing on broomsticks with Harry. He was a great flyer…"

"Who placed the Imperius Curse on Harry? When did he start acting differently?" Kit persisted, as he continued following the story, with increasing unease and uncomprehension.

Damien paused. "Harry was never placed under the Imperius Curse. We got on together gradually, and he managed to save all our lives, including Ron, Hermione and Ginny during a Daywalker attack at Hogsmeade, though it nearly cost him his own. He got really hurt at that time.

"Then one day, Harry tried to kill Dad. I never really knew why he hated dad so much, then. He tried to frame Uncle Siri for the crime after pushing Dad off a cliff. Luckily I found out, and sabotaged his plan… but Professor Dumbledore said Harry had to go to Azkaban for it.

"I couldn't let my elder brother suffer like that, for the rest of his life, no matter what he had done. I kept telling myself he'd been brainwashed by Voldemort, and that he wasn't really evil. He saved many lives, after all. Then, suddenly, just as Professor Dumbledore left Harry tied up, alone, many Death- Eaters appeared outside, within the school grounds. They had broken through Hogwarts' barriers to snatch Harry back to Voldemort's side. But Harry couldn't escape, and if he didn't... he was going to be handed over to the Dementors, to perform the Kiss...I just couldn't see him suffer like that, after all he did for me… I snuck back into the room, and let him go."

Suddenly, there was a loud hammering outside the door. Kit's head snapped up, though he knew that no one could hear them from outside.

"Damy? Kit!"

It was Ron's voice, pounding on the invisible door. "We know you're in there, so come out already! The duel's beginning in five minutes!"

Kit cursed under his breath as he checked his timepiece. It was true. And he still had yet so much to find out…

Damien, still under the spell, kept on talking. "Then I watched as Harry ran outside, and the Death- Eaters reached him. I watched him as he took Bellatrix Lestrange's hand and Disapparated…"

Kit froze, his eyes darting to the semi- conscious Gryffindor in front of him. "What?"

Outside, Ron kept on pounding loudly on the door, with both fists. "Get out of here, both of you! You're going to be late!"

Damien nodded, his eyelids drooping… "Bellatrix… Harry views her as family. He was very protective of her… he was devastated when the Dark Lord killed her, to get back at him."

Silence rang in the room, Kit stumbling backwards a little, his eyes regarding Damien in shock. "It can't be."

"Someone caught a snapshot of it… Harry and Bellatrix Disapparating were all over the papers the very next day…" Damien started to choke, his senses slowly regaining as he fought the Veritaserum, trying hard to clear his head. Outside, Ron and Hermione called out again, their bellows getting increasingly louder.

Kit was torn between decisions. He hadn't got what he wanted to know; he couldn't give it up just then! There might never be a chance like this anymore, and his worst fears had been confirmed; his father's story did not fit Damien's, and now he was torn between which was true and false, torn between countless questions.

Still he watched, as Damien choked and writhed on the floor, the younger boy's hands scrabbling and pulling at his hair, trying to fight Kit's charm. Clearly, it was already beginning to wear, as the youngest Potter was able to move now. The locking charm wasn't supposed to last more than ten minutes anyway.

Reluctantly, and fighting against the strong instinct to immobilize Damien and interrogate the boy again, Kit released the younger boy from his charm totally. For a moment, Damien coughed, then tried to push himself up, before freezing. Hazel eyes snapped up to meet Kit's black eyes. Damien started backwards, his breathing ragged, before he heard Ron and Hermione's cries outside the door, and a glint; an idea sparked in his eyes…

Kit blinked, and the moment the black faded away, the colour of his eyes changed, to be replaced by-

Green. Bright emerald, the painfully familiar shade he could recognize anywhere…

Damien's eyes stared wide, fearful and disbelieving, so many emotions chasing across his face; hurt, pain and most of all, just plain disbelief. Kit must have felt the glamour fade, and in the next second, he had raised his wand at Damien, and uttered a spell.

"_Obliviate."_

Damien couldn't have dodged even if he wanted to; they were at too close proximity to do anything but to lie there and absorb it. But he managed a strangled cry, out of sheer terror, "_No!" _, the cry somehow tugging Kit- _Harry's – _heart, at what he had done to the boy, when Damien Potter had never done him any harm…

"Damy! Damy! Kit!"

Shouts on the other side of the door rose Kit. He flicked his wand twice, then strode towards the door of the Room. Somewhere behind him, Damien stirred on the floor, wiping sweat from his brow and rubbing his head ruefully.

When Damien's vision slowly cleared, he saw his two best friends stand over him, and suddenly he felt an overwhelming rush of relief, before stilling slightly as Kit came into view.

What had happened? Why was he on the floor? All he remembered was entering the Room, talking to Kit, and then-…

"So, how much training did you guys do?" Ron asked as he pulled a dazed Damien to his feet.

Damien merely shook his head, his thoughts a whirl; he felt completely disorientated.

Kit, however, replied in his stead, "Not much. I decided to use the element of surprise to attack Potter, which I succeeded, but he managed to cast a Stunner at me the moment just before he crumpled. I only just woke up minutes ago… before Damien, obviously. Which proves that the strength of my spell is stronger."

Now that did sound familiar. Damien could recall it happening all right, the red jet of light rushing towards him even as he raised his wand. But why did something feel… amiss? Why was there a sudden feeling of _fear _and uncertainty he had towards Kit?

There had been something important… something in the back of his mind…

…yet he could not remember…

Ron linked his arm through Damien's, laughing as he steered Damien out of the room. "Poor Damy, he still seems a bit disorientated. Just what did you hit him with?"

Damien brushed back his bangs, before turning around to look at Kit, his eyes betraying his insecurity. Kit merely looked calmly back and shrugged.

"It was just a Stunner." He came forward and scrutinized Damien for a while, staring down the youngest Potter, before breaking into a small smile. "I never expected you to be this strong… but I know I'll look forward to dueling alongside you."

Kit laid his hand on Damien's shoulder lightly, his eyes piercing, as he met Damien's hazel- eyed glare, before he smirked and walked away, towards the Great Hall, where the Dueling Club would be commencing anytime now.

Damien could only trudge behind and follow, his eyes all the while trained on the retreating back of Kit Mason.

**A/N: Thanks so much for reading! I hope you liked the suspense in this chapter... things are starting to build up now. Originally I thought this chapter was too short and was going to write more, but then I noticed the word count- almost 6,500 words! Well, that's pretty long by my standards. **

**Hope you liked the update! Who saw the interrogation coming? It was pretty obvious, was it? Next chapter will be about the duel... *evil grins***

**Please tell me what you think about this chapter! **

**Rating system:**

**:D for awesome  
'.' for lovely**

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**Thanks again! Please do rate or at least leave the poor author who stayed up half the night to write this chapter a review!**

**Cheers!  
Epsilon Scorpii**


	16. Chapter 16: Second Intentions

**The Second Chance**

DISCLAIMER: I do not own anything of Harry Potter. This story is inspired by Kurinoone's awesome story 'The Darkness Within', which was inspired by Project Dark Overlord's wonderful fic- 'A Shattered Prophesy'.

**Thanks SO much to those who reviewed in the last chapter:** _Guest, BlackPanther101, .cool, Rachel, HazelMidnight20918, Phoenixx Rising, biblioholic, vnj, Ash-Bookworm113, Kimco96, coolchickdiv, G Wiz 13, Biaa Black Potter, Sushi, LadyGryffin17, v1cky84, Jaffaninja, QuestionsAndAnswers, Lauraw18, Oirasse, Kurinoone and awesomeperson17, _**your reviews were incredible- I really couldn't have done without them! This chapter is dedicated specially and specifically to you, my faithful reviewers! :D**

* * *

**Chapter 16: Second Intentions**

After her success in baking pies that actually made a distressed James to finish her bacon- and egg pie whole, Lily suddenly thought that baking pies were actually more than worth the trouble.

As she retrieved her next batch of pies from the oven, something seemed to weigh down heavily on her heart... perhaps it was the absence of the childish, grinning face of a certain dark- haired man, his bark like laughter, and his accurate guesses at determining the pie flavour by only taking a whiff of it.

It wasn't that they hadn't tried. But indeed, there was not much hope left; just as there hadn't been much hope for the Muggles in Greville's Town, when the Death- Eaters came raiding. They had been completely defenseless and helpless against magic, not to mention the fact that they were taken by surprise. It had been a lowly act of Voldemort... but since when had the Dark Lord cared? Chivalry and nobility was nothing in those ruby red eyes, nor compassion or mercy... not when he wielded his wand and killed her son, Harry, who despite everything, still called the Dark wizard 'father'...

Sirius was gone. A part of Lily tried to hope, tried to stay strong and share this strong belief with James, who suffered a more severe blow at the loss of his best friend... but it was becoming more and more difficult to do so amidst the dark times of war, especially after they had lost their son, regardless of their strong, desperate pleas and beliefs that Harry would return to them.

Wiping away a stray tear, Lily laid the freshly baked sheperd's pie on the table, glancing up, anticipating to see her husband sitting by the fireplace, staring into space, or idly drawing futile plans that might lead to him finding Riddle Manor. But when she did, he wasn't there.

His cloak, wand, boots were missing as well. All that was left was a note, in which she crumbled to the floor upon reading it.

* * *

James arrived, spinning, amidst the dark trees that stood erect and tall all around him, casting him under long, omnious shadows. His keen ears picked up nothing but the cacophony of the insects, the gush of a nearby river, and a slight rustling that proved to be nothing but a small night creature, leaping over a fallen branch and scampering away into the darkness...

Suddenly, there were several loud cracks, causing the Auror to go rigid.

He was completely surrounded, a prey caught in the middle of a circle of black. The Dark Lord himself was the last to arrive, a brilliant _green _lightning snarking up into the sky as he did, idly reminding James of Harry's comment about Voldemort's favour in making dramatic entrances...

"So you turned up, Potter... I would have expected no less from such a fool."

James did not bother asking what did Voldemort want with him. There was only one plausible answer. "I promise to come willingly with you," James said, looking directly at those taunting ruby red eyes. "But I have one condition."

Voldemort appraised him, looking vaguely amused. "Obnoxious as always. You do realize you are in no position to do so."

"Maybe. Maybe not."

There was a flash of light as James said this, and behind him, Rosier gave a startled yelp, before inadvertently, his hands slowly began to reach up and choke himself.

James' fists were clenched tightly, and his eyes were hard. But the Dark Lord did not even flinch at the sight of his servant being slowly strangled to an eventual death before him.

"By all means, kill the man, he is of no useful purpose to me," said Voldemort softly, watching Rosier's crumpled and jerking form with something akin to sickening interest. The his red eyes glittered, "But be forewarned, by bringing the death of one of my followers, you bring destruction to your own kind... and the man held in _my _captive is of more value to you than that filth is to me..."

James smiled back, his bitter and cold. "You are no more than I expected either."

Slowly, Rosier regained his breath, as James released the Death- Eater from the Imperius Curse. But as he lay there, gasping for air, Voldemort smirked and directed the wand at his loyal follower.

"You bring me no gain if you fail to even defend yourself," he said, a cruel smile on his face as he advanced on the cowering Death- Eater slowly. "And alas, there is only one fate that befits your helpless, pathetic kind..."

"No!" James shouted, even as a jet of green light darted out and hit Rosier in his chest. The man's eyes rolled back into his head, and he fell backwards with a thump, his eyes staring sightlessly, body limp. Beside Rosier, the rest of the Death- Eaters went rigid, fearful of what they might do to evoke the Dark Lord's wrath upon themselves...

"Unlike you, Potter," Voldemort's smirk was even more pronounced now, his pupils cruel slits as he narrowed his eyes at James, "I am no fool. Do not think for one moment you can double- cross me... and as to your conditions, I think I might fail to comply. Think of me as a poor host if you wish."

James felt heavy iron shackles cut into his ankles, and worst still, his knees, elbows and wrists, the sudden movement causing him to drop his wand. Voldemort leviated the wand to James' eye level, taunting the Auror, before blasting James' wand into a few broken, useless pieces, with a strong blast of Dark magic. James recoiled slightly in horror, watching as the last fragments of his plans and hopes were extinguished into nothing more than smithereens.

His ruby gaze still trained on the Auror, Voldemort reached down to the corpse of Rosier and snatched a golden chain Rosier had been wearing from the dead man's neck, before throwing it to the ground before a trapped James was standing.

Where there was a beautiful, iridescent blue stone with golden swirls embedded in the locket- a lapis lazuli stone- the enchanted blue stone now emitted a faint, pearly glow.

"A tracking charm," Voldemort continued, smiling. "Did you think for a moment you would be able to lead the Order here by your flimsy spells? It's clever, I'd give you that... but it is of no match for me." He held James' burning gaze for a moment, savouring James' bitter defeat for a moment, before turning and addressing his Death- Eaters, "Take the prisoner."

James gave involuntary struggle as the Death- Eaters approached, but the iron chains served to bind him tighter than before. It was then when James noticed that they weren't chains, but silver serpents coiled around him. He watched with rising horror as one of them wrapped itself around his torso, his chest, and crushed him with every single struggle he made.

"A new adaptation from the Devil's Snare," Voldemort informed James, his eyes still glittering. Taunting him, for being foolish enough to play the Dark Lord's game. "I would advise you to keep still if you desire to see your mutt a last time before you face death... and besides, I have one more surprise for you. I'm sure you'll like it very much. Until we meet again then."

The Dark Lord turned and vanished with a crack, brilliant green light illuminating the night sky once more as he departed.

* * *

He didn't know how many days he had spent there. They could have only been hours. Days. Months. Perhaps a year. He didn't know; he couldn't tell. The oppressive darkness that blinded him in his cell remained, barely cowering before some rare glows by an occasional lantern.

Sirius leaned against the cold, greasy and damp wall that marked a few bloodstains, and stared into space, his eyes haunted, his mind still spiralling, as it had the day he had saw his little brother he had never given a second thought to as the person he really was.

Of all things he'd expected of Regulus, it was never this. His little brother hadn't been brave, he had just been a snivelling coward that kissed the robes of Lord Voldemort, craving for the Dark Lord's power. Just like the others.

He would never have believed it, if he hadn't witnessed those two memories by himself, heard the last conversation between Rodolphus and Regulus.

But there hadn't been much point, had there? Regulus evaded death that night, but it still found him later, when the Dark Lord ordered the Kiss on Rodolphus Lestrange.

At this thought, Sirius shivered slightly, in the cold, and the pain clawed in his chest, just as the cell doors were flung open once again, and a solitary lantern came bobbing through the darkness, down the flight of stairs. Turning his head away from the light, Sirius' keen ears heard the footsteps of two men approaching, and one shuffling noise...

"Hurry up will you!" snarled a guttural voice Sirius knew to be Goyle Senior's. "I know you can be faster than this."

"My feet are tied, morons," responded an all- too familiar voice, causing Sirius to snap up and push himself forwards, tugging desperately at the metal chains binding him.

"Perhaps it would help if you could loosen the chains a little? Maybe I could walk faster, and you needn't be trapped here all day," James' smooth voice came from the top flight of the stairs. Squinting against the light, Sirius could make out Nott Senior descending the last steps first, still holding the lantern aloft.

Silence was met at James' words, and there was a look of suggested incredubility on Nott's face as he glared at his prisoner. James sighed, sounding completely unfazed.

"I guess you're not _that _thick, then," he said regretfully, stumbling down the last steps with a loud clink again. It was then when James finally looked up, and his eyes met Sirius' immediately.

Silence reigned.

Sirius wondered why James was remaining so quiet. All his best friend was doing was simply stand there and gape at him with widened eyes, as though he couldn't believe what he was seeing. What was wrong with him? Surely Sirius didn't look so bad...

But as a matter of fact, he did look in a pretty bad shape. Straggly wisps of wet dark hair were hanging over his face like a curtain, a side of his face caked in dried blood, and his hands, legs and body twisted at awkward angles, bloody and beaten, his black robes were tattered and ragged. Days of not seeing light or warmth, of dwelling in the haunt of Dementors cast a shadow over his eyes, and for a moment, if Sirius had seen his own reflection, he would have been stunned at how similar he looked to his brother, Regulus, when the younger Slytherin had been in that exact same cell, once.

The Death- Eaters exchanged a few unintelligible words before starting to unlock the cell on Sirius' right. Brutally, they threw James into the cell, causing Sirius to inhale sharply as his friend hissed in pain on the floor, winded. Then the lantern was gone, Nott and Goyle were already hurrying back up the steps, Goyle holding the lantern this time.

There was the creaking of gates, then they heard the sound of the door slamming shut, and the bolts fixed back in place.

"Prongs," rasped Sirius, before noting that the syllable uttered from his lips sounded nothing like his voice... it was dry, raspy, faint... and a bit deeper than his usual voice. "Prongs," he tried again. "What are you doing here? I thought you got away!"

The last part sounded more like himself. Slowly, he watched as his best friend pushed himself up painfully, and gave Sirius something between a grimace and a grin. "Hello, Padfoot," James said simply, which told Sirius all he needed to know.

This was all intended.

"No!" said Sirius, louder this time, his voice bouncing off the walls and echoing eerily around the cells they were held in. "What on earth were you thinking- you _musn't _be caught! How dare you come here and-"

"What would you have me do!" snapped James, not letting Sirius finish. "There was no other choice. No other way to bring you back."

"And pray tell me what have you achieved by locking yourself up in this hell hole!" Sirius shouted back at his friend, his anger and frustration boiling over, a furious kind of protective rage coming over him.

"I had a plan!" James protested, and Sirius fell silent, his breath coming in mists of white forming before him. "But it failed."

Sirius never thought he could feel as exasperated as he did now. He gritted his teeth angrily before saying, "You never really planned it out, did you? Or you cared for was to rush straight into danger and give up yourself before you actually thought of the consequences!"

"All I cared for was to bring my best friend back!" James hurled back, even as he struggled to sit upright.

Silence, again, was met at this, before Sirius said in a much quieter tone, "You shouldn't have."

"You would have done the same, if the roles were reversed."

"You're different," Sirius said, looking up at James with a sudden sorrow in his eyes that made James' heart constrict at the sight, and wonder what the Dementors had done to the ever laughing, annoying Sirius Black. "You have a family to care for, Lily and Damien depend on you, so does the Order. I don't. That's why I can afford to do it while you can't."

"Don't you even dare tell me that you can afford to bloody die for me while I can't," snapped James, a torrent of emotions building within him. Anger, sadness, frustration, guilt, fear, all jumbled up in one complicated mess he was surprised he was still sane. "We're the Marauders. I did as you would have, or Remus would have done for any of us."

A small smile lifted the corner of Sirius' mouth for a brief moment.

"The Marauders... I've not heard them for a long, long time."

"Yes you have," replied James in a testy voice, even though fear was thumping his heart wildly, wondering if Sirius was still sane. "Your memory is horrible. It suits you, though."

There was another long, long stretch of silence. Nothing was heard but for the steady trickle of water down the wall, and James' frequent struggles against the silver serpents binding him. They seemed to emit a soft, pearly glow, but Sirius, with a haunted look on his face, never seemed to notice. James' arrival had provided a distraction from his misery, but now the light had went out, and his mind was once again lost in the darkness.

Guilt had found him the night he discovered Regulus' innocence, and had stabbed him, repeatedly, killing him from the inside like a cancerous disease, as he remembered the time he had avoided his little brother's steady gaze, fixed on him but nobody else, as though trying to convey a message.

_I was tracking down Horcruxes._

He handed him over.

Still, Regulus never said a thing, never told anything to the Ministry to save his own life from being thrown into Azkaban.

Why?

The question haunted him in his dying mind, he felt the cold, chilling echoes of the Dementors' presence weighing down on him, heavily, like a physical weight. Where guilt was a powerful emotion, in Azkaban, guilt could kill.

"Padfoot," James said aloud, through short gasps of breath, trying to forget the pain of the crushing serpents around him then. "Padfoot, what did they do to you? Why are you so quiet? Are you alright?" He faltered at the last bit, barely betraying the unasked question, "Are you insane?"

It didn't seem very probable as Sirius had been able to talk to him properly just now, when he was scolding James for hurrying into rescuing him, but after that, the sorrow that clouded over Sirius' eyes, the mist numbed and shrouded Sirius' senses stole over, and his best friend was left, staring blankly into space like an empty shell, devoid of life, a few decades older than he actually was. What had they done to Sirius? It had been but a few days, but it was enough to reduce a bouncing, full of life Sirius to a living corpse.

Sirius didn't reply for a long moment, before he suddenly said, with a painful intake of breath- a name James never expected his best friend to bring up ever again. "Regulus," he said.

"What?" James wasn't sure if he heard right.

"Regulus Acturus Black," Sirius repeated himself, louder this time, his fingers trailing across the moss coating the wall he was leaning against.

A chill stole over James; of everything that had happened, this was what he least expected.

"Your brother," James said, as if to confirm it.

Sirius gave him the barest of nods. "He was a Slytherin. He believed strongly in blood purity and scoffed at Muggleborns. And when he was 18, he joined Voldemort."

"You hated him for it," James said, recalling the way Sirius' knuckles went white as his fingers curled around the glass of Firewhiskey he's been holding when he heard the news from Snape. "Even after you had been disowned."

Sirius didn't reply. "He was a traitor. He betrayed the Dark Lord, and he was tracking down Horcruxes _even before we knew of their existence."_

James was suddenly struck silent at those words. But Sirius ploughed on, as though James were never there. "He was in league with Rodolphus Lestrange. Lestrange wanted revenge because the Dark Lord abandoned him. Lestrange told Regulus about the Horcruxes, and Regulus tracked them down. But Lestrange decided he couldn't wait. He sold out Regulus for a place back at the Dark Lord's side.

"Voldemort was cunning- he decided to let the Ministry do the job for him. One of his spies revealed to the Ministry about Regulus' location. We thought we'd been given a tip. We thought that it was a Death- Eater hideout. But do you remember, when we turned up at that cave, Regulus was the only one there. He was gasping and choking as he leaned against the rocks, there was blood splatters all over them.

"I didn't know what to do then. Nor did you, you just stopped beside me and stared. But Ryan found him, and called out to the rest. Within seconds, it was all over. They Stunned him and revived him. That was the last I saw of him, until the day he was sentenced to eternal imprisonment in Azkaban. The time they led him away from me, I thought he'd avoid my gaze, but he just kept on staring at me. As though he wanted to tell me something, _badly, _but couldn't. I didn't understand him at that time. I looked away.

"After he was thrown into Azkaban, Voldemort sent Dementors to perform the Kiss on him. Regulus was smart, and he swapped places with Rodolphus." Here, there was a sudden gasp, as though he were relieving a painful memory. "I thought he lived. But that day, when I asked Rosier what had happened to the supposed Rodolphus, Rosier said he'd been killed too, when he tried to escape. Rosier said the Dark Lord never sent for Rodolphus, so the man attempted an escape, and the Dementors swooped down and performed the Kiss."

Sirius stopped, his eyes no longer blank, but staring into the far distance, unseeing. "Regulus is dead," he said at last. "He died for doing what was right. And I as good as killed him for it."

James remained quiet throughout Sirius' tale. When Sirius had stopped speaking, James looked up at last, worry and sadness mingling in his words.

"You need to fight this, Sirius. Guilt will kill you in Azkaban."

This time, Sirius lowered his head, resting it on his drawn- up knees. "I know."

* * *

Meanwhile, completely unaware of his father's death, Rosier Junior was sitting at the Slytherin table, taking a few last bites of his dinner before the dishes were cleared away. He had been training with his newly chosen dueling partner for the last few minutes in an unused classroom, and he had to admit that he was nowhere near disappointed at his choice.. He was pretty confident they would win this round, providing Potter would act just as he expected the boy to and choose Granger, the filthy mudblood as his partner.

However, Rosier's eyes narrowed as he watched Kit Mason walk into the Hall, and behind him trailed none other than a disheveled- looking Damien Potter. The mudblood and blood traitor was with Potter as well, but Rosier noticed that they wished Potter _and _Mason good luck, before sitting down at the Gryffindor Table, and watching the Headmaster with eager anticipation.

There was only one conclusion Rosier could draw from this development of things, and he could only think of one accurate description of it- 'not good'. Somehow, Kit Mason had decided to compete in the Mudblood's stead… and Rosier had a vague idea just what Kit was actually capable of. Steeling himself, he stole a glance at his partner, who did not return his gaze.

The food cleared away from the table, as expectant silence fell in the Hall. It was as though with bated breath as the crowd watched the Headmaster, Professor Dumbledore rise gracefully from his seat to the front, and stretch out his arms once more, as though to embrace the entire Hall.

"This evening," he began, his eyes twinkling merrily, "is the first duel between Gryffindor and Slytherin. Now, without further ado, may the contestants please step forwards onto the stage."

Rosier stood up slowly, his eyes all the while trained on Damien Potter, who was shaking Weasley's hand vigorously, as though for luck, with Mason standing slightly behind the pair, looking exasperated and bored. The whole school erupted into deafening cheers as Potter and Mason stepped onstage first, before gradually falling silent as Rosier Junior made his way onstage as well, his partner following some distance behind him.

Up on the podium, Kit's eyes met Draco Malfoy's unfazed ones, with a barely concealed smirk. "We meet again," Kit said to the Slytherin, his voice taunting.

Draco barely refrained from an eye- roll. "Indeed," he said lightly, before stepping away from what he regarded as the 'mental Gryffindor', looking completely unconcerned if not slightly wary… though Kit thought he heard Malfoy mutter under his breath "Just my luck."

Rosier and Damien seemed to be holding each other's piercing gazes, having an impromptu staring competition before the duel actually began. Kit punched Damien discreetly, albeit quite hardly, in his back, forcing the younger Gryffindor to snap out of the staring match and blink rapidly. Rosier smirked and looked away, seemingly slightly triumphant.

"What'd you do that for?" snapped Damien, annoyed. "Now he has the upper hand!"

"Both of you have effectively lost the upper hand," said Kit through gritted teeth. "Honestly, a staring match right before a duel? Excluding the fact that it was an extremely childish thing to do, you were blinding yourself for no reason at all."

Indeed, after keeping his eyes wide open for a few minutes, and trying to ignore the brightness of the candle flames in the background, Damien thought he saw black spots dancing in the corners of his eyes, impairing his vision. Damien swore aloud.

Professor Dumbledore, who was merely inches away from where they were all standing, chose to remain oblivious to all the little commotions happening onstage. His eyes still resting on the mass of students before him, he continued to address the crowd, explaining the rules and regulations all over again, effectively drawing a few groans from each House.

"I feel the need to repeat, that as the rules state so, no dark curses, hexes or jinxes are tolerated in this duel. Needless to say, the Unforgivable Curses are strictly prohibited as well, as it is against the law- "

"What happened to 'needless to say'?" muttered Damien under his breath.

"…decreed by the Ministry of Magic." Here, Dumbledore paused and turned to face the four duelers standing on stage, preparing for the upcoming match. "Now, may the opponents step forwards and shake hands with each other, as a mark that this duel is merely a friendly match, and no unnecessary and unprecedented violence is accepted."

This time, breaking all traditions of competitions between Slytherin and Gryffindor House since history, there was no hand- crushing before the match, merely a light handshake, or perhaps it could only be called as a brush of palms. As Draco moved forwards to shake Damien's hand, their eyes inevitably met. That moment that lasted the briefest of seconds was awkward and uncomfortable, before both averted their gazes and resumed their positions at opposite ends, intending to forget anything that might have hinted something less than arch- enemies for the past few weeks, when Harry had once been the unofficial go- between them.

Suddenly, Dumbledore raised his wand, and a large ring appeared, suspended in the middle of the Great Hall. There seemed to be a magical barrier around it, a shimmering haze of magic, surrounding the entire structure. Dumbledore motioned for the four contestants to enter the ring, and the four of them immediately obliged without a word; the Slytherins going through first, as Damien had lingered behind to wave at Ron cheerily, and Kit rolled his eyes.

Facing the crowd of students before him once again, Dumbledore continued to speak.

"I have placed a barrier around the ring," he began. "In the event that a spell were to go astray, it would disappear upon contact with the barrier, so the audience need not worry of getting hurt," he added, a small smile of assurance on his face as his eyes lingered upon a few chattering First- Year girls at the Ravenclaw Table. Taking another breath, he continued with a new tone, one with finality and the barest hint of anticipation and excitement, "The duel will commence on the count of three. The champion goes to the House who manages to unarm their opponents, or whose opponents are unconscious or have forfeited the match. The count begins, three! Two! One!"

Even as the crowd cheered at the last word, 'Begin!', the first spell had already thundered out of Rosier's wand, a Stunner, intended for Damien. The youngest Potter narrowly avoided the spell, causing a collective round of 'ooh's from the crowd. Narrowing his eyes, Damien immediately sent three bursts of light shooting out of his wand, two were red, one yellow. Rosier ducked instinctively, and to the Gryffindor's surprise, the Slytherin was fast enough to avoid all three of the spells- he didn't even need to conjure a shield. Idly, Damien wondered if he would be so humiliated that Kit would need to _help _him defeat Rosier after the transfer student finished with Draco. That thought was unbearable.

Meanwhile, as Rosier and Damien fought each other, spells battling back and forth, Kit and Draco were circling each other, almost slowly, eyes keen and alert, waiting for the first move; the advantage. Key was that if your opponent fired first, you could dodge and fire your curse with lightning speed and end the duel quickly, of course only if you were quick enough. After all, technically, said opponents' eyes would be trained on his or her own spell, waiting for it to impact, and any experienced dueler would know that staring at a jet of bright light in the middle of a duel was not the wisest course of action, especially when it blinds you for a few seconds. These seconds could be crucial.

However, unbeknownst to Kit, he himself had taught Draco that trick and perfected the Slytherin's moves himself, so neither of them were about to take the bait and fire the first curse. Kit, upon realizing this, decided to go for the first and simplest course of action. He could think of a hundred and one ways to end this duel quickly, but most of them did not apply if he were to mask his true skills at dueling. He wanted to make it look like it was more of carelessness on Draco's part that the Slytherin lost, as he inevitably would. Kit had decided that winning this match was the best way of proceeding with his plans to unveil the truth.

His mind still calculating possible outcomes of the situation, Kit sent the first jet of fiery red light speeding towards Draco, the spell darting out of his wand so fast it was nothing but a blur of red. But Draco swerved out of the way quickly, firing a spell in Kit's general direction, his spell deadly fast. As predicted. Kit ducked under the red light, which whizzed above his head and hit the shimmering barrier, fizzled and died instantly.

Next came an entire onslaught of curses, fired by Draco, raining on him heavily that kept him swerving and ducking. There were loud cries and cheers at this spectacular display of what Kit suspected almost the entire Hogwarts population regarded as fireworks instead of actual potentially harmful spells, and this caused annoyance to rise in Kit once again for being put upon stage and watched as he dueled, seemingly for entertainment.

For the next few minutes, there was no room for other thoughts, just ducking and weaving, and conjuring faint silvery shields, as Kit dodged Draco's rain of spells. The Slytherin did not put much power behind his curses- he had only managed to keep up the quantity, not the quality. And Kit was starting to worry that perhaps he had revealed too much, as he continued to dodge the rain of spells upon him, and the crowd cheered and screamed in excitement. Which only served to irritate him even more.

Sweat was forming on Draco's brow on this obvious strain; he didn't seem to be able to hold up his constant blast of three or four spells per two seconds, not if he wanted to conserve energy for the rest of the match. Kit seemed to realize this, for suddenly he ducked extremely quickly to the side, round the ring anti- clockwise. Draco's eyes widened and he immediately directed his curses towards Kit's new position. All this happened so fast that the Slytherin neglected to notice that Kit's back had been facing Rosier, and now that the Gryffindor had avoided Draco's onslaught of curses… they were going to hit Rosier instead.

Almost instinctively, Draco drew up a barrier to shield Rosier from the curses, before noticing suddenly how appalingly Gryffindor- ish his actions were. Of course, Kit took this advantage of Draco firing up a shield to fire four stronger spells in the Slytherin's direction.

Meanwhile, even though Draco had managed to cast a shield over Rosier, the sudden faint green, glowing shield beside, if not around him, served to distract the younger Slytherin, and Damien pushed home the advantage, shouting out spells verbally (as they seemed to be stronger for him when he did) and consistently, never even pausing for breath.

The crowd cheered even louder, but Kit was still able to hear Damien's somewhat heroic cries of '_Stupefy! Petrificus Totalus! Ahh!" _And much to Kit's amusement, at Damien's cry of 'Ahh!', a feeble jet of yellow light darted out from his wand too. Not to mention, the youngest Potter looked simply ridiculous.

One of Kit's spells managed to catch Draco in his leg, causing a gash to appear, and the Slytherin stumbled, slightly, but in the act, Draco managed to lose his wand. Kit watched as the Slytherin's grey eyes watched the dragon heartstring wand skittered away from its owner, landing a metre away from Draco. The Hall fell silent, as though in expectation- after all, Kit already had his wand trained on Draco. But Kit looked hard at those calculating grey eyes, thinking, before turning away, and signaling for Draco to pick up his wand again.

The crowd roared; Kit ignored them. After all, strictly speaking, he hadn't unarmed Draco- the Slytherin had dropped the wand himself. Though he could have Stunned Draco if he wanted to, right then, and ended the match the way he wanted it to- showing not skill on his part, but carelessness on Draco's. But at the last minute, Kit reminded himself of his now being a Gryffindor, and attacking an unarmed opponent was definitely not what a true Gryffindor would do. He had to play a foolish Gryffindor's part… and what's more, victory would not have tasted sweet to him if he had won the duel that way.

But as Kit's back was turned, Draco had Summoned his wand effortlessly, and in one fluid action, he fired a purple curse at the Gryffindor- and only a handful who recognized it, gasped in horror, even as the barriers were now flashing red, sensing the use of Dark magic within the ring.

Kit's eyes widened, before whirling around and throwing up his shield, instinctively, as he had always done in the battlefield. And that was why, in a moment his instincts took over completely, he accidentally uncovered his mask, and a beautiful, iridescent blue shield expanded before him, and the dark curse Draco fired fizzled and died almost immediately upon impact.

The crowd fell silent at the sudden unexpected display of extremely advanced magic. And Kit...

Kit's eyes were dark, extremely so, as he lowered his shield to look at the slightly smiling Slytherin before him.

"I knew you were more than you let on, " Draco said, his eyes taunting, even as the red flag was raised. He didn't even look surprised at Kit's actions.

Nothing more was said as a blue light emitting from the barrier around the ring began to envelop Draco, transporting him before the staff of Hogwarts, where Dumbledore was standing, looking grave.

Only minutes before it had happened, Damien's Cutting Hex had hit Rosier on his forehead, causing a red gash to appear, but when Kit's brilliant azure shield suddenly unfolded, both stopped in mid- action of cursing one another, distracted.

But as Draco was transported away from the ring, Damien still looked dumbfounded, gazing at the spot where Kit's shield had expanded with disbelief and shock written all over his features. He was still wearing that expression when Rosier's Stunner hit him from behind, sending him stumbling before sprawling to the ground.

But in the next second, Rosier had joined the youngest Potter on the floor as well, as Kit stood with his wand outstretched before him, his eyes a dangerous dark blue.

**A/N: Yay, that's chapter 16 done. I've really come far, haven't I? *Grins**

**Please tell me what you think, as usual: Was the duel as you expected? Did any of you guess I was going to reveal Kit's shield this way? Do tell!**

**Rating system:**

**'.' for lovely/ :D for awesome**

**'O' for okay**

**'X' for terrible.**

**Until next time. Cheers!  
Epsilon Scorpii**


	17. Chapter 17: Shattered Trust

**The Second Chance**

DISCLAIMER: I do not own anything of Harry Potter. This story is inspired by Kurinoone's awesome story 'The Darkness Within', which was inspired by Project Dark Overlord's wonderful fic- 'A Shattered Prophesy'.

**My heartfelt thanks to **_HazelMidnight 20918, Serener, Kurinoone, The OtherGuyHulk, 4 Guests, Oirasse, LadyGriffin17, BlackPanther101, TommyTooth, Kimco96, Jaffaninja, v1cky84, Biaa Black Potter, Nightmare in Real Life, Phoenixx Rising, Azzy97, coolchickdiv, Ash-Bookworm113, saffarinda, lotr195, Hermione Prime and Nagineus, _**this chapter is dedicated to all of you in thanks for your continuous support and encouragement, which really inspired me a lot! Thanks so much! :D :D**

* * *

**Chapter 17: Shattered Trust**

_Even as Draco was transported away from the ring, Damien still looked dumbfounded, gazing at the spot where Kit's shield had expanded with disbelief and shock written all over his features. He was still wearing that expression when Rosier's Stunner hit him from behind, sending him stumbling before sprawling to the ground._

_But in the next second, Rosier joined the youngest Potter on the floor as well, as Kit stood with his wand outstretched before him, his eyes a dangerous dark blue._

The silence that reigned in the Great Hall was oppressive and tense. Draco was still smirking, lightly, as he landed before the Headmaster, though his head was bowed. Dark and hushed whispers began to travel round the Hall, from student to student, but mostly there was quite a number who were in awe of Kit - as the first and last time they had witnessed such a spectacular display of the full body shield, the spell had been performed by none other than the Dark Prince- Harry Potter.

And amidst all the silence, Kit stood seemingly unaffected, before he slowly lowered his wand, his heart still beating at an abnormally fast rate, and internally fighting to keep up the already shattering glamour on his eyes. Kit took the opportunity to cast a new one over his eyes as he stooped to haul Damien up and perform the counter- curse on his fellow Gryffindor, before attending to Rosier.

It was only then when the brighter few of the Hogwarts population, who still realized that this was only a Dueling match, began to clap. It started out slow, a few echoes traveling round the Great Hall, echoing loudly, before the staff began to clap as well, and the handclap transformed into a thunderous applause, especially when the entire Gryffindor House stood up to cheer for their fellow House members.

No one was clapping at the Slytherin table.

Damien was now standing, still looking disorientated. He managed to smile briefly at his friends', especially all the Gryffindors' antics as they waved and whooped loudly, but the brief happiness seemed to disappear quite suddenly under a shadow, and a slash appeared between his brows as he tried to remember what had happened.

Kit turned around and looked at Damien. Surely, and inevitably, the youngest Potter began to remember, cobbling up the broken pieces of memories, the confusion and tension of the last moments before he blacked out. But slowly and surely, even as Damien tried to erase the image from his brain, thinking he'd been mistaken, he could still see the vivid picture, of Kit standing beside him, a brilliant blue shield expanding in the middle of the Great Hall, glowing with such painful similarity to the one he had witnessed what felt like years before.

XxXx

That night, the Gryffindors threw an impromptu party in their Common Room to celebrate Damien and Kit's triumph over the Slytherins. Kit, especially, was pulled into a whole crowd of new admirers, and much to Damien's annoyance, none of them aside from Hermione and Ginny found Kit's shield very similar to Kit's. Yes, they had admitted, Harry's shield did look _something _like Kit's, but why couldn't someone will equal power and skill produce the same shield as well?

It wasn't that Damien didn't want to believe it. It was just that his brother was _exceptional. _Different. And the thought that someone else like Kit could combat his elder brother's skills seemed indigestible to the youngest Potter.

Damien got quite a lot of praise and sympathetic consoles as well, saying that he would have managed to beat Rosier by himself if not for the sudden appearance of Kit's stunning blue shield. Most of them assumed Damien was being unusually quiet because he had been defeated by Rosier's stunner, though Gryffindor had still won in the end. But Damien, for the first time in his life, couldn't care less if his House had lost; all he could ponder on was Kit's shield, and how similar it was to Harry's.

He needed an answer.

As if his thoughts had summoned him, Kit suddenly appeared, lounging carelessly on the sofa beside him, his azure eyes piercing.

"So Potter… in the end I was still required for services to save your behind," the elder said, smirking.

Despite everything, a small part of Damien was still able to get annoyed.

"Go away," snapped Damien irritably. "You're attracting the crowd. It's disturbing my peace."

"What, have the Potters bought the Gryffindor Common Room sofa as well? It's not yours," Kit taunted, that insufferable smirk still in place.

Damien didn't feel like dealing with the elder Gryffindor. He was feeling tired, and confused, and he wasn't sure how he was supposed to act in front of Kit anymore. They used to trade insults, irritate each other no end. But so much had passed in the last twenty- four hours, and within that time period, Damien had lost whatever trust he may have had for Kit's words.

Something had happened in the Room of Requirement, he was sure of it- yet he _couldn't remember. _That was the thing that sent chills up his spine. He began to wish that he had heeded his elder brother's advice to never take off the Layhoo Jisteen- the one day he had decided to do so, this had happened.

Why couldn't fate just let him _rest _for a while?

Suddenly, Damien realized that Kit was scrutinizing him, an unreadable expression on his face.

Damien immediately stiffened, though he wasn't sure why- and immediately stood up to leave. All he knew was that it wasn't _safe _to be in close proximities to Kit. Just to give himself an excuse, he went over to the table to grab a drink.

He was just holding a cup of coloured liquid with strange bubbles in it when a voice suddenly said by his ear, "You don't want to drink that."

On recognizing the voice, Damien whirled around, feeling infuriated. "Will you just leave me alone already!"

Kit raised an eyebrow. "That cup contains alcohol. It's Firewhiskey, actually."

The elder Gryffindor then reached for another cup with exactly the same liquid in it. Damien narrowed his eyes, but before he could say anything, Kit beat him to it. "You're underage," he merely told Damien, smirking.

Damien felt irritation rise up in him and immediately threw back his head and began to down the Firewhiskey as fast as he could down his throat, just to prove a point. Kit's eyes widened slightly at Damien's actions, and actually managed to wrestle the cup away from the youngest Potter- but not before it was already three quarters empty.

As a result of his actions, Damien's throat immediately seared with such ferocity he stumbled backwards and hit the table, his hands clutching the edge for support.

"What the _hell _do you think you're doing?" snapped Kit, putting the cup as far as possible from Damien's reach. "That was the most childish thing I've ever had to misfortune to witness. If you think you've managed to prove a point-"

Despite everything, Damien still managed to roll his eyes, though he did it blearily. "Go 'way…" he muttered, waving his arms around drunkenly. Kit bit his lip in annoyance. Damien _always _managed to irritate him, no matter what the youngest Potter's condition!

He glanced around automatically for Ron and Hermione, but they couldn't be seen. Gah. What was he supposed to-

"Watch it!" hissed Kit, automatically using his wandless magic to save the entire row of cups from toppling over the edge, thanks to Damien the Drunkard's clumsy actions. He frowned at the youngest Potter, who was now turning tomato red rapidly, and Kit was beginning to fear that Damien was going to faint.

"Why in Merlin's name did you have to do this!" muttered Kit, cursing Damien as he roughly tugged the younger wizards' hand over and slung it around his own shoulder. Damien seemed to protest weakly at this, but his words were strung together an incoherent.

"Move," instructed Kit snappishly.

But Damien, being a Potter, stubbornly refused to.

Kit rolled his eyes in exasperation, before tugging the Gryffindor even more viciously, and half- dragged the youngest Potter away from the crowd, who barely even noticed a thing. Potter meanwhile remained extremely uncooperative and decided to flail his limbs about like a drowning diver. When they finally reached the middle of the boys' dormitories staircase, Damien's flailing arm managed to catch Kit's unawares, and it smacked him directly in his right eye.

Kit swore and let go of Damien at once, but immediately regretted doing so when Damien began to lean far too backwards and begin to fall.

"For the love of Merlin!" Kit nearly shouted in exasperation as he caught hold of Damien's wrists in time and pulled the Gryffindor to safety. "Will you stop doing this!"

Damien, in reply, shot a lousy kick off to Kit's right, which ended up with him nearly falling back down the stairs again.

"What the hell, Potter- you do realize I am actually trying to help?!" Kit snarled as Damien continued to struggle in Kit's grasps.

Damien's eyes suddenly shot open, and he glared at Kit with such intensity that Kit felt as though a block of ice had slid down his back. "Leave- me- alone," Damien said in a low voice, his eyes as though daring Kit to come nearer.

Kit, in response, merely tightened his hold on Damien's hands, preventing the Gryffindor from doing something else foolish.

"You're _drunk, _Potter, thanks to your own foolhardy actions. Now I'm trying to _help," _Kit tried explaining, his eyes meeting Damien's troubled hazel ones evenly.

"No. You don't help," slurred Damien, before coughing violently all over again.

"You'd better _not _throw up all over the carpet," warned Kit, a second before Damien did exactly that.

Fabulous.

Kit gritted his teeth as splatters of vomit fell on his shoes and robes, but still he held on grimly to Damien's falling and swaying figure, not sure why he didn't just let the Gryffindor topple backwards and fall. Damien had nothing to do with him…

The youngest Potter retched, then looked up again, tear tracks running down his cheeks after vomiting the alcohol. Kit felt like swearing all over again. He didn't even want to _look _at the state of his robes.

Using one hand to keep a tight hold on Damien, he performed another wandless cleaning charm, which immediately restored his robes and the carpet to its original cleanliness. Turning his eyes back to Damien, who was panting slightly, he rolled his eyes again and continued the tiring process of dragging the Gryffindor up again.

When they finally arrived at the boys' dormitories, however, Damien's strength seemingly started to return. The younger wizard started to thrash about all over again, and resulted in Kit getting kicked thrice at the same spot in his stomach. Despite his initial uncertainity as to why Damien had protested so vehemently at Kit helping him, the elder Gryffindor felt irritation claw all the way up to his heart as he looked at Damien's struggling figure.

At the fourth blow, Kit's patience finally snapped. He let go of Damien and allowed the youngest Potter to stumble backwards and fall, hitting his head on the dashboard in the process. Kit felt as though he couldn't care less.

If Potter wanted to make everything so bloody difficult, Potter might as well help _himself!_

Then a thought occurred to him.

But what if Potter vomited all over somebody else's bed? That wouldn't be too good…

Kit wondered what happened to his initial statement of him not caring less.

Sighing, Kit produced his wand and turned around- only to find Damien immediately reaching for his and pointing it at Kit, shakily, as well.

"What now?" snapped Kit angrily, patience long past breaking point. "I swear Potter, you're just trying to make all this more difficult for me!"

"Leave- me- alone!" said Damien again, his eyes fixed on Kit, before snapping shut, then open all over again. His entire being was swaying, unstable, but his wand was still pointed at Kit determinedly.

"Glad to see our hatred for each other is mutual," said Kit coldly. "For your information, Potter, I was going to cast a spell to make you feel better."

Damien snorted.

"Oh yeah? Like in the Room of Requirement?"

Kit's eyes snapped towards Damien's hardened gaze, something cold sliding down his back all over again, feeling as though something had squeezed his heart.

"No," he replied quietly. "I never meant for it to be that way."

Kit lowered his wand and left without another word.

**A/N: Sorry for the extra long wait and this shorter chapter! I'll try to make the next one longer, I promise. Please do let me know what you think! Was this chapter a little choppy...? -.- I didn't check it before updating...**

**Rating system: **

**:D for awesome**

**. for lovely**

**O for okay**

**and X for terrible.**

**Do rate! :D**

**P.S. Ahhh, Merlin Season 5 is coming out a day after my birthday, I can't believe it! :D CHEERS!**

**Epsilon Scorpii**


	18. Chapter 18: Flaws

**The Second Chance**

DISCLAIMER: I do not own anything of Harry Potter. This story is inspired by Kurinoone's awesome amazing story 'The Darkness Within', which was inspired by Project Dark Overlord's wonderful fic- 'A Shattered Prophesy'.

**Thank you SO much to **_Jaffaninja, Raquelgdc, Kurinoone, coolchickdiv, Oirasse, v1cky84, HazelMidnight20918,TommyTooth, Kimco96, Chingyu, Polaris Star, Ash-Bookworm113, saffarinda, Smfri, BiaaBlack Potter, Allie Danger,**(welcome, new reader! :D) **G, Nyra Lily Potter, ari, Phoenixx Rising and Potter fan! _**Chapter 18, Flaws is dedicated to all my special reviewers. Thank you so much for encouraging me! **

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**Chapter 18: Flaws**

"Can you try to recall the approximate time in which James left Potter Manor?" Professor Dumbledore asked, his midnight blue eyes boring holes in Lily even through the two- way mirror.

Lily shook her head, her eyes desperately searching Dumbledore for a sign of hope, that her husband might still return unharmed. "It was after supper. He seemed unusually cheerful then, since Sirius was caught. James left Potter Manor voluntarily. He wasn't caught by Death- Eaters… he went to meet Voldemort himself!"

"You have no recollection of the time, then?" asked Dumbledore gravely.

"No, that I can't be certain," Lily said softly. "But by the time I read his letter, it was already half past two in the morning."

"Do you think James had long since left the manor by then?"

Lily hesitated, before nodding slightly. "It was very quiet then… he might have already left by the back door, without my knowing." Lily paused slightly at this, taking in shallow breaths as she met Dumbledore's eyes. "He said he would be fine. I wasn't supposed to tell anyone about his departure, unless he didn't return by the next morning."

"That's why you only chose to inform me tonight," Dumbledore concluded, his eyes losing their twinkle, his expression remaining impassive.

Lily looked her mentor in the eyes. "I had utmost faith in James, Professor," she replied. "Even now, I believe he will return… but I need you to help me find him. He's rash and hot- headed, goodness knows that's why he went out to meet Voldemort in the first place! Normally, I trust James' abilities to the fullest… but when it comes to his family or close friends, his judgment becomes clouded. I don't know what he will do."

"Are you sure it was James who set the agreement for him to meet Voldemort, or was it the other way round?" Dumbledore asked finally.

"I can't be certain," the red- haired witch replied, her tone troubled and worried, "but if Voldemort had really sent the letter, James hid it from me all the time. He must have been afraid I'd have tried to stop him."

Dumbledore sighed. "If it was Voldemort who made contact first, there is one thing I can be certain- James has already been snatched away by the Death- Eaters… but he is still alive. Possibly together with Sirius Black."

xXx

Within minutes, the entire Order had been alerted and shifted back to full duty mode. They had suffered a severe blow, losing five members to the Death- Eater raid in Greville Town previously- which was almost one entire team of Order members. But the rest that remained still showed no sign of giving up hope; the last attack had only served to fire their spirits to bring down the Dark Lord… except for one Mundungus Fletcher.

The man had been complaining no end since the very minute he had been summoned to attend the full Order meeting led by none other than Remus Lupin, one of James' best friends. He complained about the weather, his goods, his customers, the Order meetings, the Death- Eaters, the bad timing, his future prospects at business and generally his entire life. Remus didn't know what else he could do with the man except to implore him to remain quiet as the meeting progressed. After a short debriefing, in which the Order members came to the right conclusion that James' meeting place ought to be somewhere near Greville Town, since that was the last place he had seen Sirius before the latter had been captured, the Order decided to Portkey there to search for clues as to where the leader of Team Two had gone.

They managed to Portkey to the site after a few arrangements with Kingsley, who did his job by pulling some strings subtly and carefully in the Ministry. All in all, the man must have done a great job, for within fifteen minutes, there were four Portkeys laid on the table in Grimmauld Place, one for each Order team.

"Remember, if the area has anti- Apparition wards, don't try to force enter," Remus reminded the members, to avoid them from repeating the same error as Sirius once did. Sirius had spent five days in St. Mungo's at that time. "Just Portkey straight back here and wait for the others. Agreed?"

The rest of the members nodded. But despite everything, Remus couldn't help but feel anxiety rise in him as he looked around and saw only younger, inexperienced faces. The only few members he knew could defend themselves reasonably well were Tonks, Devon, Frank and Alice, and himself. The others like Snape and Moody had been unable to attend the meeting- Snape was still away at some Death- Eater meeting, while Moody had sent a Patronus saying that he suspected Death- Eaters of surrounding his house, and therefore was unable to risk it out now.

"On the count of three," Remus said at last. "One, two, three-"

The old quill he and his team was holding flashed a brilliant blue. Remus felt as though his hand was glued towards it, before the Portkey jerked forwards, and transported the entire Team 3 members towards their destination.

xXx

There were no anti- Apparition wards set up around the area.

Remus did a quick headcount as soon as all the Order members had arrived, and ordered for Team 1 and 2 to move off into the right of the forest, whereas Team 3 and 4 proceeded onwards. To their right was a vertical drop cliff, where they could see the outline of Greville village, so there was no point in checking there.

Their team did not take long to reach the site where James had last met Voldemort a few days previously. There was a strange stench in the air that stank of rotten meat, and Remus only needed to take a whiff of it before recognizing the scent of blood.

Upon approaching closer, they saw it at last- the dead body of Rosier Senior splayed across the grass, terror in his eyes, his mouth still wide open, as though pleading. His flesh was already beginning to decay, albeit only a little, but Remus, with his werewolf nature, smelt the lingering presence of death all too keenly. As the rest of his team members moved forwards to search the body for more clues, Remus' eyes were drawn to a single object- a small locket with a green stone set into it. The green stone seemed to emit a pale, unearthly glow as Remus approached it- and once he touched the locket, he immediately felt a familiar rush through him.

It was James' magic.

Stupid stag, he thought to himself with a flash of annoyance and anxiety. What have you done now?

* * *

It was a horrible feeling, being drunk. He honestly didn't know why so many people appreciated alchohol, of all things.

Firstly, his brain was in total chaos. And secondly, his body was _out of control. _He couldn't even raise a hand properly. He'd have to concentrate, real hard. And even then his arm would come swinging upwards in an alarming manner, without its usual grace. Not that he had been particularly graceful in the firsy place.

The worst thing ever would be the point when he woke up.

The second light filtered in through his eyelids, Damien gave a croak, which was meant to be a groan actually- and flopped over to his side, feeling completely nauseous. His brain felt like coiled lead tendrils, his entire body weighed three thousand pounds. His mouth felt dry, so did his eyeballs; and his throat was so parched he realized he could barely make a sound.

At first, he'd panicked. Of course, as usual- he couldn't remember why or how he got here, or felt this sick at all. He was just beginning to get suspicious of yesterday night's bright blue mint ice cream he had decided to try at dinner before the duel when it all came flooding back to him. Like frames of pictures barrelling into his head without pause.

His head pounded, it hurt no end, but Damien forced himself to get up.

It was just his luck that the first person he bumped into on the way down the staircase happened to be Kit Mason.

XxX

"What are _you _doing here?" snapped Damien aggressively once he recognized the Gryffindor transfer student. The background still seemed blurry to him, he could only see Kit's features to an extent, but it was enough.

He should really have expected his response. Kit raised an eyebrow at his disheveled state. "Good morning to you too, Potter."

Damien mumbled something incoherent before lumbering down the steps clumsily, making a lot of noise in the progress. His footfalls felt heavy... and a sense, they were. Kit mentioned something about 'unecessary noise pollution' in the background, but he couldn't bring himself to care. Everything was so horribly fuzzy and his head was hurting so much he thought he might pass out. Perhaps getting out of bed wasn't such a good idea after all.

It was all he could do to stumble straight to the bathroom and empty the contents of his stomach. At least he felt better receiving a full blast of the ice cold water. As soon as he had freshened up reasonably well, he wondered what time was it, and more importantly where was Ron.

He had quite a few important questions to ask them.

* * *

It turned out that it was precisely breakfast time when Damien woke. Being late- risers as usual, Damien bumped into a sleepy Ron in the middle of the staircase on his return to the boy's dormitories. And of some reason, Ron looked as though a miracle had happened when he saw the youngest Potter on his feet, which for some reason caused irritation the younger boy.

"You can walk now?" it was the first thing Ron said, accompanied by a dubious tone.

"Yes, I only managed it after spending fourteen years of doing just that," Damien said snappishly.

Ron didn't seem to mind the youngest Potter's irritable mood. "I meant you're better than yesterday night," he explained. "Hell, you couldn't even say something before coughing and splattering everywhere."

Damien winced slightly. "Splattering what, exactly?"

"Vomit, what do you think?" returned Ron, making a face as well. "Then you started mumbling incoherent things like not being able to live anymore. At least that's what I heard."

"Well, you try getting drunk next time and see how you feel about it," Damien shot back. "And in my defense, it really felt like dying. Where were you last night during the party?"

Ron merely yawned and stretched in reply, before mumbling something like, "Dumbledore's office."

Well, that was unexpected.

"_Dumbledore's office?" _Damien repeated, disbelieving. "What on earth were you doing up there?"

"Kit's shield," Ron said, his eyes meeting Damien's wide hazel ones. "It looked very similar to Harry's... as most of the school population noticed. Hermione decided that we ought to ask his opinion on the matter."

"And?" Damien said, following Ron's story closely.

Ron lowered his voice at this. "Dumbledore asked a lot about Kit," he began. "He asked if Kit seemed to like it Hogwarts, did he tend to socialize with other House mates, how he was settling in and so forth. I was curious by then, so I asked the Headmaster why didn't he take his questions straight to Kit instead? Then Dumbledore merely said it was unecessary. He then assured us that many other wizards with equal skill and power could produce bubble coloured shields as well. And of course it's true... after all, we have coloured shields as well, thanks to Harry's training." He paused here for a bit, looking at Damien's hazel eyes, which were downcast, avoiding his gaze.

"It's just a coincidence that Kit's shield is also blue," Ron tried suggesting, though he still sounded a tad doubtful himself.

Damien, on the other hand, shook his head slightly. "No, it isn't just a coincidence," he said. "There's something weird about Kit. He's different, and he's got something big to hide." A pause then, "I don't trust him anymore."

Ron stilled a little at this, but he never said anything to contradict Damien's statement.

xXx

As the Gryffindors descended the staircase together towards the Great Hall for breakfast, there seemed to be a great commotion going on, and the source of noise proved to originate from their destination. Quickening their paces, Damien, Ron and Hermione arrived at the huge double doors and pushed them open- only to see students were chattering loudly amongst themselves, and owls (Ministerial, by the ribbon crest they wore around them) squawk loudly, dropping pieces of bright gold pamphlets over the Great Hall, scattering them onto each House table.

"What in the name of Merlin is going on here?" Ron said, striding forwards, before a barn owl dropped three pamphlets right onto his head, along with a shower of peanuts from the Gryffindor table. "Hey! Watch it!"

Damien snatched one of the pamphlets out of Ron's face before it fell, and read the headlines in glittering gold: _Ministry's Success!. _

A detailed read left Damien with a feeling of horror at the pit of his stomach, and glancing at Hermione, who had finished reading it first, she felt the same way about the article. The grosteque picture at the bottom of the pamphlet did not help one bit.

_The Ministry Aurors have managed to apprehend the long time supporter of You- Know- Who..._

"I highly doubt that," Ron was the first to speak in disgust. "The Ministry Aurors are completely incompetent. Well, unless they mean the Order members."

"It's Rosier's father," said Hermione in a faint voice, "Didn't they think of it before they sent these _stupid _and unecessary things to our school! How could they have gotten in anyway?"

"Perhaps the Ministry forced Dumbledore to allow these pamphlets onto the grounds," Ron suggested. "Last I heard, Fudge was close to being sacked, what with the public being rather anti- Ministry all the while. I supposed this is his method of promoting the Ministry's fame..."

He trailed off at the sight of the picture at the bottom of the pamphlet, and his gaze strayed back to the words _murdered on the spot, as sentenced..._

"There's something more to this," Hermione said quietly. "The picture... it looks like the corpse has been a few days old! It doesn't look like Rosier was murdered on the spot. And what's more, sending these pictures and pamphlets to Hogwarts... it doesn't really reek of the Ministry."

"So you're saying this reeks of Death- Eaters," Ron said, in a forced calm voice.

"The picture certainly does," Damien muttered, before turning away from the Gryffindor table.

He had officially lost his appetite.

* * *

It turned out, one of the Ministerial owls wasn't an owl after all.

No sooner than when it had flew into the Great Hall when Kit immediately tensed up, sensing that small familiar spark of his father's magic. His senses told him where and what it was, but he daren't turn around to look at the eagle owl soaring towards him.

It dropped a pamphlet into his hands, specifically for him only, before giving his finger a harsh nip and soaring away.

Harry's only thought as he wiped his bleeding finger disgustedly was that Voldemort's black raven did not enjoy being an owl.

xXx

The plan was already complete.

Being the creator of the Hogwarts shield spell himself, Harry knew exactly how to manipulate it to fit his plans. He couldn't modify what that had already been done- the shield wouldn't be completely torn down until he eliminated the four Secret Keepers, but it wouldn't be completely necessary. He could still choose to undo the other knots.

He needed to use one of the Keepers, under the influence of the Imperius Curse. He could use their magic to undo the spell, to delete all the registered names of all the students and staff from the Blood List. The blood shield would then work against them. Once their blood was unregistered, the blood wards would immediately expel all of them out of Hogwarts. Most of them would be killed. The rest, like the purebloods or those who supported his father's cause, plus the four Secret Keepers, would live. He couldn't with any of his magic eliminate the Secret Keepers' names from the Blood List, they were the ones that started the spell after all.

And by then, Hogwarts would be too easy to conquer after all. Dumbledore wouldn't seal himself up in Hogwarts when all his students had been killed. He would come out from that wizarding school, gather his Order for the last war. And Harry was ready to defeat him for that.

Everything was in place; perfect.

It was just the matter that Harry didn't have the heart to do it.

* * *

Much as he wanted to, Harry did not dare to send a reply back to his father via the sulky black raven disguised as an owl. He was pretty certain that Dumbledore would inspect each and every bird before allowing them to fly back to the Ministry.

Apparently, the Ministry had the full public support for delivering these pamphlets to Hogwarts. Apparently. But false support or were they doing it out of fear, it provided the needed pressure on Dumbledore to force the Headmaster to allow these pamphlets on his grounds, though he promised it would be the last of it. It didn't matter if it was anyway- Voldemort had achieved his objective.

After working through the intricate spell webs and passwords for an eternity, Harry was finally able to reveal the message. The now seemingly empty piece of paper recognized his magic, and at his wave, the bold letters in cursive font began to unveil.

It took barely a second for Harry to finish the letter, and after doing so, he felt incredibly annoyed.

It wrote, **_Hurry back._**

Nothing else.

Of all things! What a complete waste of ideas and schemes, Harry thought bitterly. And in the end, his father couldn't even bother to write something longer than a line.

And by this, Harry also knew- that if he failed to return within three days of receiving the message, his father would come personally looking for him... as in their agreement. Harry didn't know how much he liked the idea of that.

Harry eyed the parchment for a while, checking it further for instructions or anything else besides those two words, but there was indeed nothing. Voldemort had left him an extra brief and clear message, without any indication or attachments. Possibly for security reasons.

Sometimes, Harry wished he never wasted so much energy and concentration trying to decipher the complicated web of spells just to read the blasted message.

At the sound of the ringing bell, signalling the start of their first class, Harry promptly threw the parchment into the flames.

For a moment, the fire flickered, before it suddenly burst into emerald flames, and Harry found himself looking face- to- face at his father.

He stared at the image in surprise, stunned into silence, before his father spoke.

"It's not very courteous to burn someone else's letter," Voldemort said sardonically with a raised eyebrow.

xXx

"Well, it's a lucky thing I did," retorted Harry once he got over the unexpected... surprise. "And you're cutting it a bit risky. What would you do if I tossed the parchment into the flames in a Common Room full of kids?"

"Promptly kill them all," said Voldemort in a simple, matter- of- fact manner, before adding, at Harry's annoyed look- "I know you too well, Harry. You would never have risked that letter in public. The same way I had known you'd throw the letter into the flames."

Harry barely refrained from rolling his eyes. "Yes, probably because your _letter _was proving so incredibly informative and helpful."

"I'm sure at least the spells I wove around the parchment taught you patience," Voldemort said with a slight smirk. "And for your information, I meant it, Harry. Return back to Riddle Manor as soon as possible. You've spent far too long around that Muggle- loving wizard's school."

"It's only been little more than two weeks," Harry protested.

Voldemort cocked his head to one side. "Are you starting to enjoy your time there now, little child?" His ruby eyes narrowed.

"Yes, I'm having the time of my life here," said Harry sarcastically, knowing all too well that Voldemort was prodding him to see if he had tried to discover the truth of what happened during the period he was Imperiused by Dumbledore. "It's such a thrill acting as a complete bumbling idiot in front of the real ones every single day!"

"Have fun then," Voldemort replied, unwavered. "You asked for it. What of the plan?"

It was stunning how Harry's relaxed posture could possibly grow rigid in such a short expanse of time; one minute he was as Voldemort called, 'pouting', the next he was completely serious, his emerald green eyes in a fixed stare at his, jaw clenched.

"It's ready," he replied, rather stiffly in Voldemort's opinion.

"Then what is the problem?" said Voldemort, his ruby red eyes scanning Harry critically.

This time, Harry did not look away. "I'm not," he replied, softly.

Voldemort did nothing contradict his son's statement. "I know," he replied in an even voice. "That's why you're not going to do it."

Harry's confused green eyes met his.

"_I _am."

Silence was once again met by his words. Voldemort waited patiently for the inevitable outburst, which was bound to come sooner or later.

"What do you mean _you _are?" Harry demanded, emphasising the 'you' so much Voldemort felt a tad annoyed. The Dark Lord felt as though Harry was hinting at his competency to complete the plan.

"And what is your statement supposed to mean?" he returned, eyes still narrowed on his son under a glamour. "As you have clearly as good as admitted- I am more capable of performing the task than you. You still show great weaknesses, Harry- and you need more time to overcome them."

"This is not about my weaknesses!" said Harry suddenly, his tone suddenly fiercer, and his intense blue gaze began to show signs of emerald. "It's about hundreds of innocent lives on stake. I know by now you do not share my views, father- but no offense meant, you gave me authority to this mission. Surely I have right to withdraw my plan."

"Let's talk about your plan first," Voldemort brushed the comment aside, though he never did forget it. "How many lives exactly will be eliminated in the best course of action to conquer Hogwarts?"

"All of the students will die," said Harry, his gaze cold and hardened, not looking at his father. "Only four will survive, excluding me, among the entire Hogwarts population."

"The four Secret Keepers," Voldemort said evenly, his ruby red eyes trained on his son for a reaction.

None came.

"I haven't an idea who they are as of yet- I can only guess Dumbledore is one of them, but there is no solid proof," Harry continued. "It could be just a ruse. And there's McGonagall."

Voldemort remained silent. Since Harry was nowhere near to discovering who were the Secret Keepers as of yet, his current plan proved to be the best; it was neat, carried power and the weight of a message Dumbledore was not likely to ever forget. But Harry seemed to be repulsed by the idea of his own plan; he seemed to be trying to wreck his way around it, to find a less damaging one.

"Your plan is a good one, Harry," Voldemort said simply, ruby red eyes still studying his son.

Harry's glamoured azure eyes never met his, nor did he give any indication that he had heard his father at all. If any, his back stiffened, and after a minute's silence, he mumbled something about having classes and stalked off, trusting Voldemort to erase all traces that he had been there by himself.

Not keen to cut their conversation with such an ending, Voldemort spoke, before Harry had left, "One last thing. I have Sirius Black and James Potter as my prisoners in Azkaban. Shall I keep them until your return?"

Harry turned back, his face angled slightly in his father's direction, before he nodded once. Then, "Thank you, father."

With a wave of his hand, Harry banished the Silencing Charm he had cast around the room, before walking away.

On the other side of the door, Kit surfaced, and he had a cool impassive front once more as he hurried down the corridor towards the Charms classroom.

xXx

**A/N: So sorry for the long wait, I really hope this will make up for it. Thanks for all your support in the last few chapters, you really encouraged me and kept me going. Thank you ever so much!**

**Please do tell me what you think about chapter 18, or if you're lazy to review, please do rate:**

**'.' for lovely**

**':D' for awesome/ amazing**

**'O' for okay**

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**Thank you!  
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**P.S.: Please do check out my new and first canon based Harry Potter one- shot, titled **_Before the Rain._ **It took me almost four hours to write and work in the multiple layers and imagery, so here's an excited author hoping you'll tell her what you think. :D It's about Tom Riddle Sr. meeting his carbon copy at the bus stop one rainy day... and the story goes on from there. I really hope you'll try it and of course, give me some feedback! :D**


	19. Chapter 19: Recall

**The Second Chance**

DISCLAIMER: I do not own anything of Harry Potter. This story is inspired by Kurinoone's awesome amazing story 'The Darkness Within', which was inspired by Project Dark Overlord's wonderful fic- 'A Shattered Prophesy'.

**I deeply, humbly apologise for the long wait! As for the progress of this story, you can read up a small paragraph on my profile page to see where this is going. **

**Huge and maganamious maximus thanks to **_Manu, Biaa Black Potter, Katherine Sparrow, Nightcrawlerfw, Phoenixx Rising, Azzy97, Ash-Bookworm 113, Kimco96, mikey1048, Raquelgdc, G, Shadow Hunter, v1cky84 (thanks so much for your long review! :D), Nyra Lily Potter, HazelMidnight20918, coolchickdiv, (thanks a million for such a long review too!), Black Panther 101, LadyGryffin17, Izzy-I.R.T, Jaffaninja, Oirasse and Allie Danger_**, your reviews were so encouraging, you kept me inspired even when I was sitting in the darkest corner of the exam hall. :D Thanks so, so much!**

* * *

_Brief summary for those who have forgotten what happened in the last few chapters:_

_James is now held captive together with Sirius in Azkaban after his plans to plant a tracking charm on Rosier Sr. failed. Meanwhile at Hogwarts, Kit finds out that Voldemort's story does not fit with what Damien thinks is the truth, after questioning the younger boy under Veritaserum. In the duel between Draco and Kit, Kit a.k.a Harry accidentally reveals his blue shield to the entire Hogwarts population when the Slytherin casts a dark curse at him. In the last chapter, Damien no longer trusts Kit, and Kit's actual identity is in slight jeopardy. Kit has also perfected his plans for Voldemort to attack Hogwarts, but it involves the bloodshed of hundreds of students. All is ready, but Harry is not..._

_xXx_

**Chapter 19: Recall**

Kit walked down the corridor alone, his footsteps leading him towards the library. It was dinner in a few minutes, but he did not feel in the least hungry. It did not help that the atmosphere was a bit tense at the Gryffindor table- at least for him, at any rate- as he noticed that the youngest Potter's gaze always landed on him suspiciously when Damien thought he wasn't looking. He'd noticed straightaway of course- the Gryffindor wasn't the least bit subtle, and he had been trained by Voldemort himself to be alert at all times.

However, tonight he had more pressing matters on hand. He did not have the chance to sneak off to the library yesterday after the duel, but today hopefully no one would notice his absence. There was to be a duel between Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff soon, anyway.

As soon as he stepped into the library, Madam Pince's head snapped up to meet his eyes, her face suggesting suspicion. Kit took the oppurtunity to approach the counter, his manner trying to be nonchalant.

"Good evening, Madam," he began, breaking the silence that stretched between with a small polite smile. "I was wondering if there are any copies of recent Daily Prophets in the school? Beginning from mid last year."

The librarian's frown increased with full intensity as she scruntinised him. "May I ask why do you need them?" she said a bit snappily. "And don't you tell me it's a project, it's all they say-"

"No, of course not," Kit replied smoothly. "It's just... I'm a transfer student from overseas, and this is my first year here. A lot of things seemed to have happened over the past year, and they say there's a fearsome Dark Lord roaming around... the students talk about it a lot, but I have no idea what is going on all the time. So I decided to find out for myself."

It was partly true, like the best of lies... but Kit was not happy with it. It sounded as though he were a bit needy, trying to fit into society...

Madam Pince, however, merely shrugged and turned her back on the counter. "As a matter of fact, we do have a very systematic copy of the Daily Prophet. Wait here," she said, and promptly disappeared into a door behind her.

Surprisingly, it took her a total of less than five seconds to produce the copies of the Daily Prophet. She leviated the two precarious stacks of Daily Prophets before her and landed them none too gently onto the counter between them. "As this is the _Daily _Prophet," she began, gesturing to the huge piles. "Those are all the Daily Prophets from the September first to December first last year."

Kit stilled a bit at the last sentence, but he accepted it with a smile and a word of thanks. Then he promptly leviated the pile to a darker corner of the library, away from Madam Pince's eyes, and began the spell.

It was not complicated, but the specific charm that summoned all the articles with the keywords 'Harry Potter' was not specific enough, for Kit soon found himself completely surrounded and nearly buried by flying Daily Prophets. Instantly he was thankful he had cast a Silencing and Notice me Not Charm around that particular corner- he didn't want Madam Pince to be aware of what he was doing... though perhaps she already had.

He directed the wand movement again, and the pages immediately began to flutter around, responding to his wishes.

It turned out that the keyword 'Bellatrix Lestrange' produced considerably less results, and this time, Harry found the article without much effort at all.

He felt his breath leave him as his eyes fell upon the picture splashed across the front page, the words in bold red print emblazoned across the article "DARK PRINCE LEAVES WITH DEATH- EATERS". He could see himself clearly, emerald eyes taunting, his mouth a triumphant smirk, hand in Bellatrix's, who was laughing, as the battle rampaged around behind them both in the background.

It wasn't possible. It just wasn't, because his father himself had promised him that Bellatrix had died by the hands of the Order early last year, it must have been the truth. His father, surely, wouldn't have lied-

And it was just as that single thought, when his scar flared with such intensity he dropped the prophet, his fingers flying to the lightning bolt mark on his forehead.

His fingers came away stained with red.

* * *

Damien had felt ill at ease throughout the entire day ever since his meeting with Kit in the Room of Requirement yesterday night. It didn't help that he did not have the comforting weight of the Layhoo Jisteen around his neck, as he had forgotten to put it back on what with his accidentally getting drunk during the impromptu party the Gryffindors had thrown.

"You're not eating much," commented Ron lightly, eyeing the youngest Potter before him, who was playing with the stew on his plate, not actually eating anything.

Damien shook his head. "I don't feel like it," he replied.

Ron paused a while, before saying, "It's about Kit, isn't it?"

Damien didn't even bother to deny it. "You know it is," he said, his voice dropping low just in case the Gryffindor transfer student was about.

Ron sighed. "I know he's a bit weird sometimes, and the shield was a lot like Harry's... but Dumbledore himself admitted that anyone else with the same skill could have done it. Kit's not exactly friendly at times, I give you that... but I still don't see why you have a problem with him."

The younger wizard merely shook his head, looking for a some reason a tad conflicted.

"He's just... different. We've known him for almost two weeks, we live in the same dormitory and eat together... yet it feels as though we don't know him at all. His personality changes, all the time. He doesn't talk much. Sometimes he's easy to annoy, sometimes... he's just cool and unaffected... I don't know. He makes me extremely... on edge, I guess." He refrained from mentioning the Room of Requirement part, which was actually the main reason where all these ill feelings stemmed from.

Just then, there was a cry from the Slytherin table, drawing his attention away from his present worries. It was Rosier Jr., and his face was contorted in pain. His sleeve also seemed to be stained dark red, with no seemingly obvious injury at all... and with a chill down his spine, Damien noticed that it was Rosier's left sleeve stained with, what he suspected was- blood.

Even before the younger Slytherin quickly rose to leave the hall, Damien left his seat quickly, his heart pounding for no apparent reason. Perhaps it was paranoia, one of the after effects of being mind- wiped... or perhaps it was just an instinct. He ran back to the Gryffindor tower without a glance back or an explaination, just to find the Layhoo Jisteen.

xXx

Upon arriving at the Gryffindor's boy dormitory, Damien immediately leapt up the staircase and rushed to his bed, his hands scrabbling for the bottom of his trunk before he actually got his breath back. His fingers found the cool black stone almost immediately, and Damien actually felt suddenly relieved, the tension drained from his body.

As he realized this, though, it did nothing to calm his nerves. Why was he being this paranoid and edgy? What was wrong with him?! Was he becoming this way because he was too dependent on the Layhoo Jisteen? Or was it because- because whatever happened to him at the Room of Requirement. He had a strong feeling that he had been mind- wiped, but of course he had no way to prove it.

But what in the world could have happened? Why would Kit mind- wipe him? Surely there had to be a plausible reason... perhaps he had stumbled upon one of Kit's dark secrets in the Room? Was that why the transfer student decided to Obliviate his memory of that meeting?

At the thought of this, a chill stole over him once more, and feeling extremely uneasy, Damien quickly looped the Layhoo Jisteen once more around his neck.

A memory charm, such as the _Obliviate, _is actually a charm to blur out a specific memory in the mind from being sensed, thus the illusion that one does not remember said memory- so technically, the memory is not removed, but blanked out by a charm. And unbeknownst to Damien, not only could the Layhoo Jisteen protect the wearer from charms, hexes and spells- it could undo any detected charm cast upon the wearer. And that was why, promptly after Damien put on the pendant, his head began to pound in earnest, as the confused memories of yesterday night came flooding back to him with ferocious intensity.

With a muffled groan of agony, Damien sank onto the floor beside his four- poster bed, hands clenched into fists, into darkness.

* * *

_Professor Dumbledore's office, Previous night after the duel_

Professor Dumbledore sat across the younger Slytherin, his midnight blue eyes dark, its twinkle lost beneath the shadows. For a moment, they merely appraised each other- Draco trying his best to avoid any eye contact and act as though he _weren't _trying to do so, while simultaneously praying that his Occlumency barriers still held strong. Although he did not have much confidence on that matter.

"Do you have a vaild explaination about your actions tonight?" Dumbledore said at last, with a sigh, as he leaned back in his chair, eyes never leaving the student before him.

Draco thought for a moment before replying carefully, "I do, but it is not one you would deem valid."

"Pray tell, Draco," Dumbledore said easily, though his manner was far from carefree.

The younger wizard shrugged, appearing nonchalant. "I would have thought it was obvious," he replied. "Mason was going to win. I couldn't let him. I was desperate, so I cast the most vicious curse I could think of at that moment, without much thought on the consequences. I... apologise for my actions, and would accept any form of punishme-"

"The truth, Draco," said Dumbledore, his voice suddenly holding more power than he did before, his face growing serious. "Please."

Was it really that obvious? Draco inwardly cringed. He had rehearsed this line over and over in his head even as he was transported away from the ring where he duelled with Kit. Surely he had sounded convincing... just not enough.

He remained silent, his eyes dropping to the table between them, not caring to answer. Dumbledore saw through his act, his facade. There was no more point in continuing to lie, and there was no way he was going to tell the professor the truth. It was too... private. And it did not involve Albus Dumbledore.

The Headmaster seemingly realized this, as he continued to speak in a weary tone. "What you have done tonight, Draco- though it was not as Dark as the Unforgivable curse... you do realize that the torturing spell you aimed at Kit is almost enough for the Ministry to press charges for your wand to be snapped, even here at Hogwarts."

"But I thought Hogwarts was all about learning," he countered, still refusing to meet Dumbledore's eyes. "Why is it we are only allowed to learn _weaker, _light spells? What is wrong about learning a few Dark spells?"

That was a question Harry had voiced one too many times in front of Draco, and to be honest, Draco had always wanted to bring the question to the Headmaster's face himself. The school syllabus was completely absymal, and the thought that they actually had hope to defeat Voldemort's army with a few flimsy hexes was undeniably, cringe- worthy.

Dumbledore seemed to stiffen a bit at this question, though outwardly his countenance did not waver. "That seems a familiar question to me, Draco," he told the younger boy. "A former student of mine asked me the same once."

He studied Draco for a reaction and quickly found one, a slight tightening of his fingers around his dragon heartstring wand, though barely noticeable. "I'm not surprised," the Slytherin replied. "That student of yours might have been the one who brought it to me at Hogwarts."

"Oh no, I don't think so," Dumbledore said lightly, "Seeing as Harry claims him as his father, I would think the age difference would be too great for you both to meet as students. Nevertheless, let's come back to you. What really triggered such a response from you?"

This time, Draco forgot not to look Dumbledore straight in the eyes. "I'm not sure myself," he replied evenly. "So I highly doubt you will find an answer."

There was a pause of silence, before Draco straightened with an air of dismissal. "Is there anything else you wish to say to me, Professor? I assure you I will not repeat such a stunt at Hogwarts again... so can you just hand me out my detention just so I can leave?"

In truth, Draco was getting unnerved being in such close proximities with Dumbledore for such a long period of time. His father Lucius had long since warned him against Dumbledore and his Mind Arts when Draco was young. And he was keeping quite a lot from Dumbledore, who was talented in the art of prying into other people's business- in his opinion. It was tiring to keep up a constant shield around his mind while playing Dumbledore's game, he was afraid that despite his best methods, he had let something slip.

"Of course, Draco," Dumbledore replied with a slight smile, the unnerving twinkle in his eyes appearing once more. "You will be serving dentention with Professor Snape from tomorrow onwards, he will inform you of the details during your classes later." Despite everything, Dumbledore did not seem very concerned with Draco's punishment. "But as for an answer, Draco... I think I have already found one."

Draco ignored the statement, striding over towards the door, before his hand froze on the door knob.

...Or perhaps, he had let something slip _by. _

He hated Dumbledore, with every fibre of his being.

He turned around once more, with a mask of nonchalance, but his eyes betrayed steel. "By the way, Professor," he said lightly, "just so to remind you, Harry Potter, or the Chosen One or whatever you'd like to call him is dead. He's not going to save the Wizarding World anymore, contrary to what you believe... so it would be prudent to accept reality by now. I noticed that you still use present tense when talking about him, hence the delusion that he is still around to save the world again. Good night, Professor."

Out of the corner of his eyes, he saw Dumbledore's azure eyes widen in something akin to surprise, then Draco closed the door between them.

He allowed himself a small smirk as he walked down the corridor, back to the Slytherin Common Room.

_Caught you._

xXx

Draco had been staying abroad with his mother following the week in which Harry died by Voldemort's hands, and when he had shown himself as a traitor to the Dark Lord as he chose his best friend over his sworn allegiance as a Death- Eater. He had not been given the Dark Mark yet, but if nothing had gone so absolutely awry last year, he would have been one of the Inner Circle members now.

However, when news spread that Hogwarts was actually reopening this year, somehow his parents had been in contact with each other again, and Draco was sent back to Malfoy Manor alone, a week before September first. His father had been extremely on edge throughout the week, and he thought he could understand why- Lucius was practically considered as betraying the Dark Lord for not handing Draco over as a traitor. But one way or another, somehow, Draco's life was spared... and no Death- Eaters came around to murder him.

For a while Draco did not dwell much upon it, but as he trained by himself in the grounds of Malfoy Manor, trying to remember the last scraps of duelling techniques his best friend had once taught him, he couldn't help but puzzle over the pieces- why his father was always absent. He noticed that Lucius never returned for almost four days straight, leaving him to be attended to by the House Elves.

And he couldn't help but think, Lucius never stayed out the night except for previous occasions, when he had been in a Death Eater raid, or when Harry was at Riddle Manor. The two always had much to discuss, Lucius being one of the few Harry liked to reveal his plans to first before he brought it to his father.

Seeing as there was no Death Eater raid he heard going around, except for the one in Greville Town- in which Lucius actually _had _been around- Draco felt pretty suspicious of what the Dark Lord was planning, and why was his death not ordered yet. Not that he was eager to die so soon.

He guessed the Dark Lord and Lucius was busy training a substitute for Harry... but it didn't make sense, as Harry was virtually irreplaceable. None could combat his skill nor power, except the Dark Lord himself. Or perhaps Dumbledore too. And so his second guess led to they were actually training a student spy to plant in Hogwarts instead. Lucius had mentioned previously that the Dark Lord had been toying with such an idea before, as Dumbledore would be less suspicious of a student, had would be obliged to protect said student even if the spy turned his back on the Light side.

Despite himself, when he returned to Hogwarts alone- Crabbe and Goyle were understandably no longer his cronies but enemies- Draco found himself searching keenly for the spy Voldemort planted among all the Death Eaters' sons, and he quickly narrowed his guess to Rosier Jr., for so far, he knew that the boy was only capable junior Death Eater among the rest.

At first, he had thought that was the end of it, but then Potions class came, when he was paired with a transfer student, Kit Mason, typically from Gryffindor the way Draco's luck was going. For the entire lesson he had been alarmed and mentally tortured by the Gryffindor, but after he had calmed down enough to reflect on the memory, he couldn't help but reflect on the ease in which Kit mentioned his father's name.

'_Lucius taught you well', _he had said.

As though Kit had known his father well.

And wasn't Kit supposed to be a transfer student from abroad?! How could he possibly have known who his father was?

He continued to ignore the fact, though it gnawed him again when Kit's outstanding performance in Defense class drew much attention and applause to the previously somewhat pseudo- incompetent brat.

When he agreed to being Rosier's duelling partner, he'd never imagined himself duelling Kit of all people, but when the opportunity presented himself, he couldn't resist. Perhaps, he admitted, his time spent growing up with Harry had made him more inquisitive about puzzles and troubles than he ought to be. So he decided to test the boy, just to see if he was Voldemort's spy in deep undercover (how in the world did the Dark Lord's spy manage to get into Gryffindor was beyond him).

He purposely dropped his wand, acting as though it were an accident, just to gauge Kit's reaction. Death- Eaters normally jumped to embrace glory, whether they rightfully earned it or not. But Kit was different; he merely paused then signalled for Draco to pick up his wand once more.

He decided to try and test the Gryffindor's limits one last time. It was reckless and impulsive, even more so for a Slytherin, but he was tired of abiding by limits and expectations. He fired a Dark curse at the boy when he the boy was unaware, and waited, almost hungry, for the transfer student's reaction.

What he was expecting, it definitely wasn't that. He was shocked to say the least, to see the brilliant blue shield expand once more, and witness his spell fizzling out pathetically as it came into contact with such raw power. He only managed to morph his expression into one of knowing and taunting, as though he knew all about Kit to make the supposed transfer student uneasy, before he was transported out of the ring by Dumbledore.

* * *

_Back to present_

_Kit was leaning over him, his eyes dark and unmistakably dangerous. He felt his breath catch, unexplainable fear stealing over him as he realized he could not move, that his will was no longer his own. His brain felt numb, yet something deep inside him was fighting and panicking... it was a weird yet horrifying sensation, he did not quite know what to make of it._

_"I have questions for you," Kit spoke suddenly, his eyes gazing right into his, sending chills up his spine. "A year ago, how was Harry Potter captured by the Order?"_

_He realized by now, too late- he was completely powerless against the elder boy. A part of him was still alert and fighting the spell, but his energy was already beginning to fade. Much against his will, the words were tumbling out, he couldn't stop himself. He told Kit everything, beginning from when his dad caught the Dark Prince, to when Harry was brought to Hogwarts. He practically told Kit how Harry was initially indifferent to all of them, and how he still saved their lives from the Daywalkers during the attack. _

_"When was the Imperius Curse placed on Harry Potter?" Kit asked once more, his tone demanding, power suffocating. _

_He struggled weakly, actually managed to thrash about before spitting the words, "He was never placed under the Imperius Curse."_

_He saw Kit' expression harden, emotions chasing across the elder Gryffindor's face, before once more sliding neatly behind a mask of indifference. He continued talking, he told Kit that he freed Harry, and watched him take Bellatrix's hand and Apparate away, while the Order was powerless to do anything about it. _

_The spell ended abruptly as the last sentence left his mouth, Kit's eyes snapped to him, burning with alarming ferocity._

_And he was struggling once more, thrashing wildly, uncaring- all he knew was that he had to break out of the spell that stripped him of his will, his power-_

_The spell lifted completely, releasing him from its clutches. For a moment he lay there panting, heart beating wildly, before his eyes met Kit's... they were an absolute dark, black._

_Damien started backwards, at the same time Kit blinked, and his eyes were replaced by a stunning shade of-_

_Green. Emerald green, he could have recognized them anywhere. _

_He jerked back in shock, his mind completely numb as though he were still under the spell, unable to process what was happening. Somewhere in the background, Hermione was hammering wildly on the door- in the next second, there was a rush of blinding light, a spell engulfing him. He managed a strangled cry, fear, pain and above all, disbelief mingling in his voice, even as the light blinded him- and he fell into unconsciousness._

...he was struggling, against the spell, yet there was no spell- it had already been lifted...

"No," he murmured, derilous, his hand still fisted around the pendant around his neck- yet he was in the Room of Requirement, the Layhoo Jisteen could not protect him-

"Damien! Damy, wake up!"

There was an urgent voice calling him, yet he couldn't respond- he felt like he was not in control- there was something missing...

_SLAP._

"AHH!" Damien shot upright, breathing heavily, scooting backwards at the same time, his eyes wide with panic. He was met by the scene of his two best friends standing over him, looking extremely concerned.

Ron looked at his own hand guilitily. "Did I slap that hard?"

The bushy haired girl ignored Ron completely, opting instead to kneel down before the youngest Potter, who was still shaking after relieving that memory. "What happened, Damy? Are you alright?" Hermione began, her brow knitting in concern. "We came here to get you to leave- but when we found you, you were lying there twitching on the floor- we thought you'd been poisoned!"

"No, no," Damien shook his head, "Hermione, I-"

Then part of what Hermione said registered in his befuddled brain. "What do you mean get me to leave?" he questioned.

This time, it was Ron who answered.

"The Death- Eaters have come to attack," he said grimly. "They are closing in on us as we speak. The barriers ought to hold up, but... Dumbledore wants all the students gathered in the Great Hall."

Damien struggled to get up. His mind was reeling with so many things happening almost at once, he was once again struck in a dilemma-

_The blue shield, expanding in the middle of the Great Hall- _

_Those words- When was the Imperius Curse placed on Harry Potter?!_

_Black, then the brilliant shade of emerald green-_

"No, no," Damien repeated, shaking his head, his fists clenched- he never realized his was burying his head in his hands, rocking backwards and forwards, as though trying to rid himself of reality that had suddenly crashed down upon him. This could not be happening again. Harry was dead-

"...it might be just like what I predicted," he heard Hermione's worried voice in the background, "Damien is a Secret Keeper, so his magic is tied with the wards'. If the wards are weakened, his magic might be too- but that is only supposed to happen if an individual carriers a great amount of magic and raw power..."

"...but the Death Eaters haven't started attacking us yet... have they?"

"I don't know, Ron- the wards include half of the Forbidden Forest as well... for all we know, they could already have."

"But _I'm _fine! Does that mean I have less magic or something?"

"That's not the issue, we need to hurry-"

"The Marauder's Map!" Damien exclaimed suddenly, before whirling on Ron, his eyes suddenly wide, infecting the red headed Weasley before him with his panic. "Does Kit know the password, did you ever let slip it to him?!"

Ron started, "No! I never-" before he paused, remembering. "I may have, when we were checking the parchments in Filch's office to see whether if they were- hey! What are you-"

"Damy, where are you going- come back!" Hermione cried, actually running after him, but Damien paid his friends no heed.

"Go back to the Great Hall, I'll meet you there!"

With that last echoing call, the youngest Potter vanished round the corner.

When Ron and Hermione reached the Great Hall, two students from Gryffindor were reported missing- namely Damien Potter and Kit Mason.

* * *

Harry was swearing mentally over and over again even as red clouded his vision. Blood was seeping free and fast through his fingers, and there was nothing he could do, no spell he attempted that could stench the flow. What was going on?! His scar never hurt with such ferocity before, even when he was within close proximities of his father. What was making it work up like this?

It was only when Dumbledore's voice over the Sonorus Charm sounded all around Hogwarts, did he know what was happening.

"_Attention all school staff and students, please report to the Great Hall immediately..."_

Hogwarts was under attack.

He had just spoken to his father only this morning, so there was no reason for Voldemort to suddenly come storming to Hogwarts, except if- his father could sense his thoughts. Perhaps Voldemort had cast a charm on him, a modified version of the Specific Summoning Charm... and if his thoughts ever strayed too far to finding out the truth, if his thought processes connected a few keywords... his scar would inflict pain on him, and Voldemort would know...

As if to confirm his thoughts, pain immediately burst from Harry's scar with renewed vigour, causing him to gasp in pain. When Madam Pince came rushing out of the door behind the counter, eyes wide, he quickly cast a Befuddlement jinx on her and a Disillusionment Charm on himself in rapid succession. It was only when the confused woman looked around one last time and left her precious library, locking the door behind her, did Harry allow the charm to fade.

Quickly, Harry forced himself into action, ignoring the pain for the moment, as his fingers trailed across the now heavily bloodstained Prophet. He might never get a chance like this ever again, not after he returned to his father-

Immediately, almost as if on cue, pain stabbed him like thousands of vicious knives, such ferocious agony that Harry cried out, buckled over by the intense burning of his scar. Blood was pouring out incessantly, his face was half covered with blood. Already he could feel his grip on the world of consciousness slowly fading...

Why was Voldemort so protective, so afraid that Harry would dig in deeper into the story, to discover the truth? There was but one answer, but Harry did not want to entertain it, nor could he, as pain consumed him everytime his thoughts drifted-

_Because he lied._

Harry felt his elbow hit the floor, his entire vision was dark and hazy. He could barely think nor see, all that existed was pain-

In his semi- conscious form, he never heard the library door click open softly, nor did he see a figure enter quickly, heard the sharp intake of breath. But as the pain slowly subsided, Harry managed to push himself upright. His scar was still bleeding, raw and painful, but he managed to push it into the corner of his mind- he had to get out to his father.

Reading the Daily prophet was no longer an option, the pain would just attack him until he was rendered helpless once more, and this time he might not regain consciousness. It was only after he had cast a cleaning charm on himself to wipe all traces of blood, be it on himself or on the floor, did he allow himself to leave.

It was then when he sensed a presence close to him, hiding.

Harry pretended not to notice, before suddenly turning round the corner, sharp. He caught the intruder at once.

It was none other than Damien Potter. He had a knuckle stuffed in his mouth. What was wrong with the boy?

"What are you doing here?" Kit snapped, as Damien merely gaped at him idiotically, as though in shock at being discovered.

Trying not to betray his fear- how long had Potter been watching him?-, Harry struggled for his last vestiges of acting skills to potray Kit once more, "You look ridiculous by the way. Is that- were you actually _crying?"_

"They were tears of laughter," Damien snapped back, though his voice seemed oddly detached. Broken? "You looked ridiculous sleeping on the floor."

"I'd be glad to trade insults with you all day Potter," Harry said sarcastically as he made to walk past the younger wizard, "but really, I need to get going. See you in the Great Hall."

He was about to turn round the corner when suddenly Damien's arms shot out, as though heroically, his determined face inches from his own, barring Harry's way forwards. "I'm afraid I can't let you pass," he said.

Harry didn't know what to make of the boy. Already he was growing worried; was his father attacking Hogwarts yet? He needed to get out, fast, but Damien Annoying Potter somehow always manged to _get in the way._

He pretended to frown, as though seriously thinking it over, before turning round and walking through another corner round the bookshelf. "Then I just might have to find another way," he said, his strides quick. He reached the door in triumph, just before Damien's hand shot out, catching his wrist.

_"_In the name of Merlin, just _what do you think you're trying to do!" _Harry snapped in exasperation, his unease, fatigue and frustration boiling over.

Damien did not flinch. "Just who are you really, Kit Mason?" he asked softly.

For a moment, time seemed to stand still, before Harry pulled his hand out of Damien's grip harshly, at the same time Damien pulled him round again, equally forcefully, and practically shoved something in his face...

"Remember this?" Damien said lightly, holding up the Layhoo Jisteen for Harry to see.

Harry gazed at it blankly. "Really nice necklace, Potter," he said emotionlessly, but his heart was beating fast. It was the Layhoo Jisteen stone- the one that was supposed to be at Riddle Manor since he saw it there seven years ago- and _it had his magic written all over it._

His scar was beginning to flare up again. Quickly, Harry turned away, but Damien started speaking again, "My _brother _gave it to me," he said, the younger wizard's words tumbling out in a rushed jumble, as though fearful Harry would never hear them once he left. "You must have heard of him, he's Harry Potter. And do you know, you are actually very similar to him- you have his same blue shield, green eyes-"

"Are you colour blind as well as deluded now, Potter?" Harry snapped, but he never moved away from where he stood, Damien's hand still curled on his shoulder, forcing him to study the Layhoo Jisteen almost cross- eyed. The more Damien spoke, he realized, the more his scar flared... which meant, in some twisted way, he was learning the truth that had plagued him for so long.

"No," said Damien simply, "I just remembered."

Beneath his grip, Damien felt Harry go still.

And the next moment, a powerful blast was sending him flying backwards, until he crashed violently into the bookshelf behind him.

The Layhoo Jisteen protected him a little from his physical impact with the bookshelf, but it did not protect him from Kit's blow, just like when Harry managed to knock him unconscious while he was wearing the stone before his brother surrenderred himself to Voldemort last year.

Damien felt as though his brain was practically flatlining. It confirmed it all didn't it? Only Harry could blast him or harm him in any way while he wore the Layhoo Jisteen, as Harry tied his own blood into the protective charms. Only Harry.

And only he knew the truth.

Staggering out painfully from beneath the bookshelf, Damien half- ran, half- limped after his brother... his wand left discarded among the rubble of books and broken pieces of wood.

* * *

Harry raced along the empty corridors, even as his scar continued to burn, although with significantly less ferocity than it had when he had been in the library. He didn't know why he had pushed away Damien roughly, when he was the one who wanted to learn the truth- a part was desperation, and most of all was fear, almost animalistic, wild- that his father, the only one whom he had trusted blindly, had based everything on lies.

He knew Voldemort lied, all the time even- but there had always been an unspoken line to it. Harry trusted his father in serious matters- he'd thought Voldemort had kept the story simple, leaving out all the details- yet _nothing _about what the Dark Lord said fit at all. And Bellatrix- Merlin, Damien had told him that _Voldemort _himself had killed Bella, when she failed to bring Harry back to him.

He didn't know the truth. Everyone had seemingly different versions of all of it, and he did not know which version to believe anymore.

He tore his way towards the Hospital Wing- he knew from the maps that it was the only room on the first floor with a window facing outside- the Quidditch Pitch, and a distance away- the Forbidden Forest, where his father ought to be, if Voldemort stuck to the plans.

Madam Pomfrey was not around, nor were any patients- presumably all of them were in the Great Hall. Not caring what damage he did, he blasted away the glass from the windows, cast a cushioning charm and jumped straight out.

To Damien, who was trying his best to keep up behind, Kit had just jumped out of the window and continued running as though it were nothing. Damien thought of using the Cushioning charm, but he couldn't find his wand. So he promptly jumped out of the window as well, fully aware of how stupid and Gryffindor-ish his actions were-, and praying his wandless transfiguration would miraculously work.

It did work, though not as successfully as he would have liked- as he crashed into a thin sheet of feathers in pillow cases on the ground floor.

xXx

Harry turned back as he heard an agonized cry behind him, indicating that somehow that idiotic Gryffindor was still following him. Gritting his teeth in annoyance, he turned round and stopped short at the sight.

Damien was staggering after him, his leg an awkward angle, and his shirt stained red. The way he held himself, Harry guessed that he had a fractured knee cap and possibly a broken rib... if not worse.

"Just what did you do?!" Harry exclaimed, if anything, in extreme annoyance. "Don't tell me you jumped out of the window as well!"

Damien grinned in a very pleased way, as though he were proud of himself. "I did, but the- pillows- cushioned... my fall."

"Your breath is getting short, stop talking," Harry said with a cold tone. When Damien showed no sign of obliging, Harry hissed in frustration, "_You have at least a fractured rib, _Potter, so do yourself a favour and _go back."_

Damien frowned slightly, though it was clear it cost him an effort. His face was taut with pain, and he was getting increasingly pale. "I-It's not- my.. fault, you know..." he wheezed, "you... blasted- me."

"You have the stone-" Harry began, though with a sense of dread as a part of him knew where this was going.

"-which you... gave to me," Damien finished, actually smiling benignly. "Believe... me- now, haaah...?"

Then Damien started to cough, and much to Harry's horror, the youngest Potter started to cough out blood. Damien seemed to glance down at himself, as though suddenly aware of the extent of his injuries, and his eyes widened slightly.

As Harry took a step forwards, Damien sank with a groan onto the ground, at the same time a familiar voice hissed from beyond the trees-

"Hello again, Harry."

**A/N: To make up for keeping you guys waiting so long, I've typed an extra long chapter for you, 6875 words without adding my author's notes! I completed this at one a.m.. Did anyone expect this development? :D hope you like this chapter... please review!**

**Rating system :**

**':D' for amazing/ awesome**

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**'X' for terrible.**

**Leave me a rating, at least? Pleeease? ;)**


	20. Chapter 20: Fitting Keys

**The Second Chance**

DISCLAIMER: I do not own anything of Harry Potter. This story is inspired by Kurinoone's awesome amazing story 'The Darkness Within', which was inspired by Project Dark Overlord's wonderful fic- 'A Shattered Prophesy'.

**I deeply, humbly apologise for the long wait! As for the progress of this story, you can read up a small paragraph on my profile page to see where this is going. **

**Thank you So, so soo much to my much appreciated loyal readers and reviewers: **_coolchickdiv (thanks for the double review! I'll seriously think about the suggestion :), Nightcrawlerfw, Oirasse, Jessica, Harry fanfic, 2 Guests ( :D), Ash-Bookworm113, kitty, v1cky84, mikey1048, LadyGriffin17, Kurinoone, Kimco96, TSRowenwood, Sushi, TomRiddle4ever, Priyanish Potter, The Ebony Alchemist, 12, and G. **This chapter is dedicated to you. :D**_

* * *

**Chapter 20: Fitting Keys**

Harry glanced back sharply, his eyes darting between the shadows of the trees where the Forbidden Forest lay, but there was no sign of anyone around, only the cold autumn wind blowing sharply. But he had no doubt regarding the voice he had heard; there was only one other person who could speak in Parseltongue besides him.

Deciding to ignore the voice for the moment, Harry made to move forwards towards Damien Potter, who was gasping weakly on the ground, front covered in blood... yet the voice hissed again, somehow nearer and more forceful-, "_Harry."_

His scar was flaming up with pain again. He stopped a metre away from the youngest Potter, who was struggling to breathe, splattering blood on the ground before them. "_Why did you come?" _Harry hissed back, though he did not turn around. "_Where are you now?"_

"_We are returning now," _the voice replied, still speaking in snake language. Harry's eyes once again snapped to the Forbidden forest, but Voldemort was not there, neither were any of his Death- Eaters.

_"If it disturbs your conscience this much, heal the boy then leave," _he heard his father's voice in his head again. For a moment Harry stepped forwards as though to do just that, before his eyes suddenly hardened with steel. He took a decisive step forwards, he felt a slight flicker of pain in his scar, a small twinge. His heart pounded furiously as he approached the younger boy.

The youngest Potter's eyes were still open, though Harry suspected, unseeingly.

"May we never meet again," Harry said softly, before he raised his wand.

A jet of red light thundered out of his wand, hitting Damien straight on his uninjured arm. The youngest Potter gasped, as though disbelieving, then fell back, his eyes still wide, wearing an expression that, for the life of him, Harry could never forget. Harry's scar flared up once more in bitter agony, before it numbed into a dull throb.

"_It's what the Potters deserve," _Harry hissed in response to Voldemort's unasked question, then he stalked round the youngest Potter's body and strode towards the magical barrier.

He stretched out his arm before him, his fingers touching the barrier, before focusing on drawing his magic, the raw power he had unintentionally gained ever since he was but a child. It came to him easily, his eyes turning into a dark, harsh black as he allowed the magic to flow from his outstretched hands, cold wind still buffeting him, yet it was not caused by the weather. For a moment, nothing happened; then a great blast of energy left his fingers and connected with the blood shield.

The shield turned a fiery red, flaring up before him as though it were a wall of fire, but Harry pushed onwards, his eyes still a dark, merciless black. Slowly it began to crack, and Harry pushed home his advantage. He drove all the power he had into the seam in the magical barrier, then barrelled forwards. There was a blinding flash of light which illuminated the evening sky, then Harry was gone.

xXx

Beyond the wards, Harry stumbled outside the shield, all magic drained from his body. His knees sank to the ground much against his will, he felt nauseous- it felt almost worst than when his scar had been hurting him in the library.

He felt a familiar presence come to a halt before him; he knew it was his father. "Harry?" Voldemort questioned, long fingers lifting his chin. His eyes met ruby red ones, and he felt his scar give another painful throb.

The world was collasping rapidly around him with a haze of colour. With the last breath he could muster, he asked, "Why did you come?"

Voldemort ignored his question completely. "The barrier is stripping you of all magic," he murmured, studying his son's face intently. "I asked if you were certain, Harry... yet it happened anyway."

"My records proved it wouldn't happen," said Harry through clenched teeth, though staying awake felt like a difficult feat even for him. "Father... why did- you come?"

He didn't think that Voldemort gave him an answer, but even if he had, Harry was not awake to hear it. He slumped forwards onto the forest floor, his world blackening out completely.

The last thing he saw was the Hogwarts doors bursting open, and Dumbledore rushing out of the castle, accompanied by Snape and Professor Wynter.

* * *

Dumbledore had been trying to locate the two missing students from Gryffindor using his magic, until he suddenly felt a lasting spasm of pain in his heart. Glancing across the room, he noticed that Minerva's face was too, pale and taut, as though hiding pain.

"The barriers," he told her, "Someone is weakening the barriers."

He closed his eyes, using his magic to strengthen the blood wards surrounding Hogwarts once more, but the force attacking it was vicious and unrelenting. Raw power, purely dark magic, was pushing forwards with full strength, and the more Dumbledore casted his spells on the barrier, the weaker he became. He had tied much of the barrier's magic to his own, after all, instead of Damien and Ron's, as they were only students. It was his responsibilty to protect them.

Then there was the sound of a loud crashing noise coming from upstairs.

Professor Wynter immediately offered to check, and he returned within a few seconds, to tell Dumbledore that Potter and Mason were heading towards the edge of the barriers.

He'd immediately hastened towards the great doors, rushing out into the open, closely followed by Professor Wynter and Severus by his side, but Dumbledore could see it was already too late. The barriers had resealed themselves once more, though it was considerably weaker than before- it still held its purpose. And Damien... the youngest Potter was lying on the ground, bruised and bloody, unmoving.

Dumbledore cast one last look at the edge of the Forbidden forest, half- expecting to see Mason's unconscious form lying on the other side of the blood wards, but there was no sign of him anywhere. Nor were there any signs of the Death Eaters.

He quickly approached the injured boy. He recognized the Petrifying jinx that was cast on Potter and immediately lifted it with a flick of his wand. Almost immediately, Damien's eyelids fluttered, and he was struggling to sit up, his breath coming in alarming short rasps.

"Damien, what happened to you? Who did this?" the Headmaster questioned urgently, trying to grasp the last piece of the puzzle to solve the mystery.

"Don't- let- him, go," Damien half- shouted, though most of his words were only mouthed; his voice failed to obey him. "He- must not...go..."

"Who are you talking about, Damien?" Dumbledore asked, fighting the cold chill that threatened to still over him. "What happened?"

Damien's gaze sought the edge of the barriers determinedly, as he struggled to sit up, the desperation on his face painful to watch. Then all the eagerness and hope drained out of his face, leaving him bloody and broken, a sense of bitter frustration welling up in him, so much that it hurt him, badly. "He's gone," he said numbly, almost like a sob. "He's left _again." _

It sounded somewhat like a petulant pout, if not for the pain gnawing at his heart, which Dumbledore did not seem to understand, for he gazed emotionlessly at Damien, his blue eyes searching.

"It's too late now," Dumbledore said at last, voice grave. "Come now, Damien... we must get you to the Hospital Wing first."

"It's not fair," Damien murmured faintly, but the rest of his words were incoherent. Dumbledore watched, deep in thought, as Damien was sent to the Hospital Ward, his best friends Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger accompanying him, looking worried.

And he hadn't even told the boy, his father was still held captive by Voldemort...

Dumbledore turned to Severus, who was watching him intently, wondering about his next move. "Scout the area," Dumbledore told him and Professor Wynter. "If Kit Mason has indeed broken out of the barriers as I suspect, he ought to be lying on the other side of the blood wards, unless someone else has taken him away."

Snape's eyes narrowed. "Why are you so certain?" he asked, before leaving with Professor Wynter, who was already ahead of them both.

Dumbledore's tone was grave. "If Mason has indeed broken through the barriers, he has done it at a very heavy cost... I fear, Severus, that he might not have made it."

* * *

"How is he?" Hermione asked softly as Madam Pomfrey cast a last healing spell over the patient's body, while Ron finished with the bandage on Damien's left elbow, which also happened to be fractured.

"His injuries are all physical, so he ought to be fine by tomorrow... he has not lost any bones, so Skele- Gro won't be necessary, thank goodness," Madam Pomfrey said reassuringly, though there was a slight frown on her face as she continued to add a seemingly tiny and harmless detail, which would bring endless annoyance and frustration to Damien in the next few days. "His skull was hit pretty hard, though- he had a mild concussion, which I have already fixed... but the brain's a delicate thing. Possibly over the few days he might develop a few delusions, post- traumatic disorder or simple paranoia, maybe nothing at all... but it's still a possibility."

Hermione nodded, looking slightly relieved, but not at all reassured by the latter.

"Those only last a week at the most, Hermione, don't worry," Ron seemed to read her thoughts and spoke up. Though judging by the look on his face, Ron did not seem very certain either.

The Gryffindor bushy haired girl merely sighed. "I hope he gets better soon. Professor Dumbledore has got a lot of questions for him... I wonder what happened?"

Ron stood up, yawning. "By the state of his injuries, he'll probably sleep through the night like a log... he'll be stiff and sore but awake tomorrow morning, though. We'll come down here then."

Madam Pomfrey nodded in approval. "Off you go then," she told them, bustling the visitors out of the Hospital Wing. "Goodness knows its almost an hour past curfew, and you don't want to get caught roaming in corridors past bed time."

"Do you know if the students are still in the Great Hall, Madam Pomfrey?" Hermione asked before they left.

She nodded distractedly in response. "Yes, you're spending the night there," she replied.

Ron and Hermione thanked her and left, walking down the corridor together, deep in thought. Presently, Hermione asked, "What did Damien mean about the Marauder's Map, Ron? Wasn't it confiscated by Filch?"

The redhead looked just about as confused as she was, not to mention extremely sleepy and tired. "I seriously don't know," he said, before suddenly stopping short. "Kit. Where's Kit?"

"Damien went off to find him," Hermione murmured, forgotten anxiety suddenly growing. "We found Damy only... and Madam Pomfrey suspects the Damy fractured his knee cap when jumping out of the Hospital Wing window. We heard the noise, remember?"

"But why would Damy do such a thing?" Ron asked, frustrated. "No one ever tells us a single thing. Just one whisper from Professor Wynter and all the staff are rushing out of the hall, then we find Damy injured and alone in the field. It doesn't make sense."

Just then, their conversation was suspended for the moment as they had both reached the Great Hall. The entire hall was submerged in darkness, with nothing but the faint moonlight filtering in through the floor- to ceiling windows and the magnificent stars overhead as a source to brighten the room. Cautiously, so as not to step on another fellow student, Hermione and Ron made their way over to the two empty sleeping bags in Gryffindor and snuggled in.

They had just managed to squeeze their eyes shut, pretending to be asleep when they heard the click of heels on marble, unmistakable for anyone else's except for Professor McGonagall. The noises of footsteps paused somewhere to their immediate left, among the mass of sleeping students, and Hermione heard their Transfiguration professor converse with someone else in a quiet voice, "The Death- Eaters have already retreated. There is no longer any sign of them."

Through the crack of her eyelids, Hermione saw Dumbledore's figure nod slightly. "Good, good. The castle shall return to our normal activities tomorrow morning."

"But-" Professor McGonagall seemed to protest, but Dumbledore's voice was suddenly firm and brooked no room for argument.

"There is no cause to alarm the students, Minerva," he said, sharply. At this, the pair fell silent, and their echoing footsteps resumed.

Hermione counted to ten slowly before slowly opening her eyes. Ron was already fast asleep by then, his breathing deep and rhythmic, so there was no discussing this development of things with him.

If the Death Eaters had indeed retreated, she thought, there should be more cause to worry- for their retreating only meant one thing, that was they had already got what they wanted.

And Kit Mason was the only student missing from Hogwarts.

xXx

After the long, tiring hours of the night in which Hermione found herself unable to sleep, she was extremely relieved to see the faint rays of sunlight beginning to filter in through the windows of the Great Hall. She watched as the sun slowly rose above the horizon, its rays beautiful and golden, until it was too bright, then she turned away. Around her, students were also beginning to stir; the bright light made it almost impossible for them to resume their dreams.

She turned around and glanced at Ron's still sleeping figure, and sighed. Well, he _would _just continue to sleep.

Ginny was among the few early risers as well. She approached Hermione with her quilt wrapped tightly around herself to protect her from the morning chill. "Good morning," she greeted her friend with a smile. "I take it you didn't sleep much?"

"No," admitted Hermione tiredly. "Couldn't sleep."

"How's Damy?" Ginny asked, spotting on Hermione's thoughts almost at once. "I heard that he was injured yesterday, but it was nothing serious..."

"Nothing serious?" Hermione said incredulously. "He broke a rib, fractured another, got a head concussion, an elbow and kneecap fracture."

Ginny's eyes widened. "_What?"_

"I don't know much else besides that... and Kit still remains missing," Hermione said worriedly. "Dumbledore's going to ask him questions later."

"D'you reckon he's up yet? We could go and see him together," Ginny suggested, already springing to her feet at that thought.

"He'll probably only wake after Ron has," Hermione smiled.

xXx

An hour later found Ron, Hermione and Ginny walking down the familiar corridor to the Hospital Wing. Each of them had some snack or other smuggled from the breakfast table for Damy; Ron's sleeve was beginning to get suspiciously greasy what with the heap of bacon wrapped beneath.

To their surprise, when they were just about to enter the Hospital Wing, Professor Dumbledore came walking out, accompanied by Snape, who looked for some reason, annoyed. But Dumbledore said nothing, he merely smiled at them and continued on down the corridor, Snape looking his usual sour self. Feeling slightly suspicious, Ron pushed open the doors into the ward, taking care to be quiet.

Damien was sitting propped up against the pillows, looking pale but otherwise fine. When he saw his friends, his expression brightened considerably, and with a sudden eagerness, he quickly urged them all to sit down.

"Cast a Silencing charm," he told Ron, his hazel- eyed gaze wide.

The three visitors exchanged glances.

Damien's demeanor did nothing to calm his friends. Mentally, Ron was already groaning loudly. He supposed that was quite a concussion Damien had had, but he really didn't like the idea of entertaining a delusional Damien for one entire week, much as it might be amusing. Sometimes.

However, Ron had previously read up books on how to deal with patients suffering from delusional problems or post traumatic disorders, and the book advice that was given was for others to just humour the patient until he or she snapped out of it. So, with a long- suffering sigh, Ron did as he was told and sent a meaningful look at both Ginny and Hermione, which they did not miss.

The youngest Potter seemed to be facing conflicted emotions. He inhaled deeply, and closed his eyes for a moment, before blurting out all of a sudden, "I-I've not told anyone else about this, not even Dumbledore, because just now Snape was around and... well, that's not important. But... this is going to be a bit hard to believe."

He opened his eyes to meet three pairs of expectant gazes, encouraging him to continue, though Damien instantly felt somewhat discouraged. His friends' expressions had hidden winces in every edge of their faces, and Ron's gaze was far too knowing. Nevertheless, Damien felt the need to push on, he couldn't keep it bottled up anymore. He felt desperate, he needed someone to talk to, to confide in.

So, he took a deep breath and said in a rush, "Harry has went back to Voldemort."

In Ron's mind, he immediately began an analysis. 'Damy's brain has supplemented him with a previous image, during the last time Death- Eaters stormed in on Hogwarts, due to the trauma Damien had experienced. A totally logical explaination, which was even explained by the manual itself.' And upon arriving at that conclusion, Ron relaxed a little and felt instantly pleased with himself; he knew how to handle this.

"Oh, I see," Ron said in a calm manner, contrary to Hermione and Ginny's somewhat surprised expressions. He also couldn't resist giving them a reassuring look, 'I've got everything under control.' "What else happened, Damy?"

Damien's gaze was instantly upon him. "_No you don't,_" he snapped, sounding extremely irritated. "Damn it Ron, contrary to what you believe, I am _not _delusional!"

_The road of denial. Another fact from the manual. _

_Humour the patient, the manual had said._

"Yes, of course you're not," Ron placated in a calm tone, which only served to frustrate Damien further. "Tell me, why do you think Harry is back with Voldemort?"

"Because I saw him leave," Damien said through gritted teeth, trying to bury the annoyance burning in him."- I _felt _it, the Dark Lord's presence- I know it doesn't make sense either but-"

"Yes, yes, we understand, Damy," Ron continued in a 'professional' manner. "Do continue."

That was all Damien could take. With a sudden flare of his magic, his thin patience snapped. "Fine! _Fine! _Don't believe me! Forget all this, I'll just tell you all next week when you're finally convinced that _I am not delusional. _For now, you're just acting doctor and patient with me anyway, not as a friend, so nothing I say is to be taken into accountability!"

He was sick of it. With Madam Pomfrey checking and prodding at him once in a while, Snape darkly hinting at a psychological test, Dumbledore's piercing gaze and questions, while _he _was denied the chance of any answers, and now his friends' distrust in his sanity too. What was _wrong _with the world! There was nothing wrong with him!

Ron seemed taken aback at this sudden outburst. _That was not in the manual, _he thought.

Hermione took the chance to cut in. "It's not just that, Damy... to be fair, you took quite a knocking to your head, and well... you don't seem quite yourself. Madam Pomfrey also admitted that there's a high chance of you being a little delusional for the next week or so, but it ought to fade quickly," she added.

Damien sighed, looking suddenly very disappointed, that it squeezed her heart. "Never mind what I said then, sorry," he said, though his mouth was sitll a definite downward curve.

Ron scratched his head a little guilitily at Ginny's _look, _and started, "Sorry Damy, it was just... there was a possibilty that you were delusional and I was eager to test out what I learnt on an actual patient- ... and for a moment there you actually fit the- sorry."

Damien felt frustration boil over, at the same time the humor in Ron's meek admittance hit him. In the end he decided to let the topic slide from further discussion, he didn't want to upset his friends further despite his initial craving to share this new development of things. But to be honest with himself, Damien was beginning to get unsure of what was reality and what was not, after Madam Pomfrey had told him hallucinations and delusions would seem perfectly plausible to a distressed patient. And the events of yesterday were somewhat hazy-

"So what did you guys come up here for?" Damien asked instead, changing the topic.

* * *

_Azkaban, Same Time_

James and Sirius had been deprived of both food and drink for one entire day, and their previous meal was nothing but a measley hunk of tough bread and a bowl of suspiciously foul tasting water. Nevertheless, James forced the whole share of food down; he knew he needed strength, and the more he ate, the more he could focus on breaking out, instead of letting the Dementors eat him away bit by bit.

However, in the cell next to him, Sirius seemed a completely different matter. He did not touch the food presented to him, he rarely responded to James' remarks. For the first few days, James had kept up an incessant chatter on random topics, taking care to include many insults, both pointed and direct at Sirius just to gauge a response from his best friend, but nothing he said or did seemed to have any effect. After a while his mouth became dry so he fell silent morosely, but then Sirius had suddenly spoke up, telling him to continue talking. He said he just felt like listening, he said that James' voice could, at least, serve as a distraction.

At first James felt like protesting, he wasn't a radio- and he was running out of water!- not to mention it was no fun having conversations with oneself. But then there was something in Sirius' bitter tone that caused James' breath to freeze in his throat, he feared that his friend was really drifting away, despite his best efforts. So he kept on talking and talking, telling tales of fairytales he heard of as a child, his family tree stories, things he heard about Muggles' awesome 'technology', their Hogwarts days, the Marauders (he left out Peter), even Harry... and his whole life in general.

But today proved no different, Sirius seemed just as dejected and helpless as usual, and when pestered for plans to escape, Sirius either remained silent or smiled mirthlessly, exposing two flashes of white teeth in the darkness, which was completely creepy, but not enough to derive James of his determination to escape.

"I've just noticed something, Padfoot," James rasped, trying to keep his hoarse voice light. "Whenever I struggle, these chains burn up. If I struggle hard enough, possibly, I might get the door bars to melt... at the cost of quite a few excruciating burns."

It was the best plan James could think of given the circumstances, so naturally he felt the need of a bit of encouragement. Nevertheless, Sirius was nothing if not pessimistic.

"You're killing yourself," Sirius murmured, shaking his head slowly, the clinking sound of the chains echoing eerily around the empty cells around them.

Unbeknownst to him, James emotions were currently mirroring Damien's own at that very moment. "Stop being such a bloody pessimist!" he snapped angrily. "I came here to save you, Sirius. Maybe I failed to get you out of here, but I'm still trying, and I can't save you from your own mind!"

"Leave me, then," Sirius hissed, his voice merely a shade above whisper. "Escape while you can... leave me."

"E_XCUSE ME?!" _James thundered, his hoarse voice suddenly amplifying tenfold. "You know what, I didn't come to this bloody place just so I can be your radio to put you out of your misery! Guess what Sirius, you lost your wayward brother, _I _lost my son too! _I _am also miserable in this hell hole! But I don't see you at least _responding to me _to put me out of my miserable thoughts! You're an Auror, so am I, and we've been trained in such situations, so stop being such selfish idiot and _start planning!"_

Sirius remained silent, and James was inches away from howling, threatening and cursing his best friend all over again, when Sirius seemingly took a determined breath.

"Alright," he said slowly, instantly sounding more like himself than he ever had for the last few weeks. "What magic can we perform here without any wands?"

"None, just Padfoot and Prongs' transformation," James replied, feeling better now that they were actually discussing strategies.

"Any chance of you learning your son's awesome wandless transfiguration?"

James sighed. "I _could. _When I had sharp focus, was in perfect health condition and had my full magic at my disposal. Furthermore, the cell bars are resistant to any form of magic."

"Just a teensie weensie bit of transfiguration? On yourself," Sirius persisted.

James groaned. "I'm not a Metamorphagus! Why, who should I impersonate as? A Death- Eater so that they might free me when they next come down for a visit?!"

"No," Sirius said, and this time with a shiver of excitement, James could feel the same tiny bit of euphoria coming from his best friend too, as though they were about to pull a major prank back during their Hogwarts days... just that this was far more serious. A hundred thousand fold.

"Could you by any chance make your antlers small and sharp enough to fit the keyholes, Prongs?"

James stilled, before moving closer to the keyhole and examining it with the little light they had in the cell. The keyhole was huge, almost one inch in radius, as they had never been changed ever since Azkaban had been built ages ago. Slowly, James turned around, a manic smile on his face, feeling pretty certain that Sirius was close to mirroring his expression.

"Merlin, Padfoot. You're a genius."

xXx

Fifteen minutes later found a frustrated stag repeatedly jiggling its suspiciously pointy antlers into the keyhole, but its efforts were futile.

"You don't just push in and twist your antlers about, you need to find the right compartments to press," Sirius told him.

There was a loud clanking noise and a breathless James reappeared on the floor, panting. "Let's see how good you are at it," said James, miffed. "It takes great prongs control! And its not working, my antlers aren't small enough."

"Try making them really sharp, and pointy," suggested Sirius. "I can transform into my dog form so that you can see my fangs and get inspiration, if you like."

"You don't have _fangs," _scoffed James, before suddenly turning on Sirius. "Aha, why don't _you _attempt to break out with your fangs as well? After all, as you put it, they are sharp and pointy enough. And you're the one who has more experience with picking locks."

"Are you telling me to sacrifice my tearing teeth?" said Sirius incredulously.

"On the bright side, they might not break," said James lightly. "And if they do... we'll just grow them back using Skele- Gro later."

Sirius made a sound between a moan and a sigh. "Azkaban has seriously addled our brains..."

* * *

_Hogwarts; Night_

The day passed in haze for Damien. Everytime he closed his eyes, in his deluded state, he would somehow imagine the figure of Kit as Harry, running towards the barrier, the red shield glowing, before he disappeared altogether right before his eyes. And to think, when Harry had been with him, when they had opened Harry's many boxes of presents together, he had sworn to himself, he would never let his elder brother slip away again, not then not ever. He had broken that oath, one too many times- try as he might, how much he wished he was strong and powerful like Harry- he simply wasn't. He couldn't break Harry free of Voldemort's clutches.

But at least, at the very least, Harry was alive, wasn't he? He had a blue shield, he had emerald eyes. He could blast Damien even though he was wearing the Layhoo Jisteen. Surely these facts were enough, were solid proof that his elder brother lived?

He wasn't quite sure why he did not tell Dumbledore the true facts, all he said was that Kit was trying to escape the barriers and he tried to stop the boy. As for being questioned why did he suspect Kit of being the spy in their midst, he replied that he'd always been suspicious of the psuedo- Gryffindor, and that was the truth anyway. He didn't add anything about him finding out Kit was Harry, he'd been swirling in a haze of reality and dreams when he'd just woke up, and truthfully a part of him had initially feared that it'd all been a dream of wishful thinking.

Suddenly, the Hospital Wing door opened once more. Damien squinted against the light. "Ron?" he called out hesitantly. They'd promised to drop by that night after dinner, but judging by the time, they ought to have just _started _dinner.

"No," said a completely different voice. "Draco Malfoy."

Damien was more than surprised. "_Draco Malfoy?" _he echoed. "What are you doing here?"

The Slytherin sweeped the drapes away with one hand carelessly, still allowing a little light to filter in through the crack beneath the Hospital Wing door.

"You have something I want," he said, approaching Damien.

This, if any, seemed to only alarm Damien further. He shifted away from the tall Slytherin uneasily, hating his current condition. Malfoy wouldn't do anything would he? He wasn't on the Dark Lord's side... right?

Draco sighed, before reaching into his robes and holding out a wand. Damien's own wand.

"Oh," Damien said blinking. "Er, thanks, I guess."

He tried to take the wand from Draco, but the Slytherin did not let him take it. "Answer my question first," he said lightly. "Who is Kit Mason?"

Damien stopped, his breath caught, froze in his throat, torn between telling and the latter. He had never told anyone yet, not since his friends seemed to think he was delusional. He'd been putting that off for tomorrow... he wasn't sure if he could trust the Slytherin. He'd never actually known Draco in person, and from what he heard of Harry, Draco had been one of the best among the junior Death- Eaters. He was even somewhat promised the Dark Mark by his seventeenth birthday... which ought to have passed now, had it?

"Tell me, Potter," demanded Draco, Damien's own wand pointed threateningly at his face, "What did you do last night? Why did Mason escape?!"

"I- I thought you wanted to have nothing to do with the war anymore," Damien said, his throat dry. How much did Draco know?

"Stop putting off the question!" Draco hissed threateningly. "Tell me, _is Kit Mason Harry Potter?"_

Damien fell still, his breath coming in short, ragged. "You- you know, too?"

Draco remained impassive for a moment, before dropping Damien's wand, which the younger wizard immediately caught, warily.

"I guessed as much," he told Damien, "but how?"

The question was directed seemingly at no one, but for Damien, it seemed like Draco's question was a confirmation to his belief, however ineloquent it might be.

"I never told anyone else this," Damien began hesitantly, "but before the duel that night, Kit tricked me into training with him, in the Room of Requirement." He flinched slightly at the memory, and he could feel Draco's gaze snap back to him. "H-He Stunned me... and when I finally woke up, I was drugged with Veritaserum, and I couldn't move. Then Kit began asking questions, about-" He paused. "About Harry's past life. And he asked me, I remember not understanding it at that time, 'when was Harry Potter placed under the Imperius Curse after he was caught last year?'"

He stopped, but Draco urged him to go on.

"I told him, of course- he'd never been placed under the Curse. Then when I mentioned Bellatrix Lestrange, his eyes went black I guess... and when he blinked, they were back to normal. Green." Damien swallowed at the last bit.

Draco's grip on the bed post was so harsh his knuckles were white. "I didn't think it was possible," he breathed, and there was a manic, excited gleam in his dark grey eyes even as he looked at Damien. "Don't you see? The Dark Lord gave Harry another chance. What we were fighting for, who we saw lowered into coffin, it wasn't him. It was a fake. And he wiped clean Harry's memories, told him he was placed under the Imperius Curse."

Damien felt his heartbeat increase at the revelation, his heartbeat racing as he connected previous seemingly unrelated incidents. "And on that night," he added breathlessly, "when all of you were fighting at Hogsmeade, Harry turned seventeen-"

"- and he managed to fight the memory charm, temporarily. That was why he managed to send the letter."

Damien's voice was nearly choking up with emotions, joy, shock and above all, relief, that someone finally believed him, that Harry was indeed still alive. "It was a snowy white owl, wasn't it?" he asked, almost in a whisper. "He delivered the letters with Hedwig- I told her to fly at him once the clock struck seventeen... and when I received the letter, I was just so upset I just didn't-" Damien fell abruptly silent, "... notice, at that time."

"Notice what?" Draco pressed, his eyes intense.

"Harry said he didn't know what was going to happen. He said nothing was all as it seems, and he hoped I wouldn't be the Secret Keeper when the time came..."

"Harry sent a letter to Dumbledore," Draco deadpanned, sounding disgusted. "Of course that old wizard didn't make the spell, it was Harry's project. I _knew _it." Then he stopped, turning back to Damien, "but where _is _Harry now?" he asked.

"He broke out of the barrier last night," Damien replied, ignoring the searing feeling at the back of his throat. "That's why I ran after him. I'd ony just found out... and he could blast me, even though I was wearing the Layhoo Jisteen. Only Harry can attack me while I wear the stone."

"He _blasted _his way out of the barrier?" echoed Draco, sounding horrified.

"Yeah... what's the problem? The barriers are still holding," Damien said, uncomprehending.

"The last time I heard, Harry was still working on the barriers- and if anyone ever had the power to blast through the blood wards, he or she can only do so at a very heavy cost," Draco said. "The barriers will strip him of most of, if not all his magic. Any other average wizard would have died instantly while losing such a great amount of power. The effects are like the Markalline Curse, only much, much worse than that."

"Harry wouldn't have done something so stupid, it's his own invention, he ought to know," Damien persisted, ignoring the icy feeling in his gut.

"Of course," Draco said, "Unless that was his intention."

**A/N: Thanks so much for your great reviews, they were amazing! I reread them thrice to gain more inspiration to write the next chapter, hence the quick update :D. Hope you guys enjoyed it, please leave me a review!**

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**Thanks for reading! (Please rate before you leave? :)**

**Epsilon Scorpii**


	21. Chapter 21: Healing

**The Second Chance**

DISCLAIMER: I do not own anything of Harry Potter. This story is inspired by Kurinoone's awesome amazing story 'The Darkness Within', which was inspired by Project Dark Overlord's wonderful fic- 'A Shattered Prophesy'.

**Hurrah for my achieving over 101, 000 words and exceeding 400 reviews! Wow, I've never achieved such great numbers ever before, this is a very first experience for me! :D So thank you all so much, I really couldn't have done without your wonderful support.**

**Million thanks to: **_coolchickdiv (thanks for the double review again! :), Nyra Lily Potter, paris, Raquelgdc, Ash-Bookworm113, Biaa Black Potter (for two reviews! :D), filoctetes, Phoenixx Rising (thanks for review in C20 as well!) Smfri, Oirasse, Jessica, Nightcrawlerfw, Kurinoone, Kimco96, Sushi, Manu, Red Mini Cooper, LadyGriffin17, Eternal She- Wolf, Harry fanfic, 2 Guests ( :D), Priyanish Potter, v1cky84, and G! **T**__**his chapter is written for you. :D**_

* * *

**Chapter 21: Healing**

It had been almost two days since the day Harry broke free of the barriers. Draco never attempted another visit after that night, so Damien did not have a chance of discussing Harry with anyone else. The Slytherin had warned him against telling any of his friends about what they had found out, just in case the news reached Dumbledore's ears.

"_But surely it would be better with Professor Dumbledore could help us," countered Damien, disagreeing. "And I don't see any harm of telling my friends about this."_

_"Providing they believe you," Draco said scathingly. "Granger is bound to announce everything to that old wizard. And do you remember what happened the last time Dumbledore took this matter into his own hands?" Draco's eyes flared. "He just managed to turn Harry against all of you, and threaten him with Azkaban in the process. Tell me Potter, are you sure informing _Dumbledore _of all people is a wise decision?"_

He had to admit that Draco did have a point, but that didn't stop Damien from feeling bad for keeping this to himself instead of informing Dumbledore. It was even worse when it came to hiding things behinds his friends' backs. Harry was their best friend too, and they had every right to know.

_But they didn't believe you when you tried to tell them, did they? _A nasty voice spoke at the back of his head. _They thought you were delusional._

He promptly and eloquently told that voice to shut up. He hadn't managed to convince Ron, Hermione and Ginny because he'd never managed to get to the main point, the crucial reveal that Kit was actually Harry, his brother. If he brought up the facts, surely they would believe him... Damien felt pretty certain about it. But Draco definitely would not be pleased.

It was his first day of being discharged from the Hospital Wing, and surprisingly enough he did not feel much like returning to class. Normally being trapped alone in the Hospital Wing made him miserable and claustrophobic, but this time it gave him a quiet environment to think and reflect, trying to gather hints Harry maybe, had once left for him to find, just in case he was once again mind- wiped like he feared would happen.

Kit's absence, meanwhile, had been explained by Dumbledore to the students, saying that under special circumstances, Kit was allowed to return to his family who were moving abroad once more. According to Ron, though, a few were initially skeptical of his sudden disappearance, but sooner or later majority of the students had promptly dismissed the matter, since there was nothing else to dwell upon.

Damien walked slowly down the corridor, feeling both apprehensive and a sense of dread at the prospect of meeting his friends. He _really _did not want to lie to them, and he had promised only to answer their questions after he was allowed to return to class _and _they were convinced he was no longer delusional. Damien had initially thought it would be easier for him to break the news now that he had had a few days to plan what he wanted to say carefully, but those plannings, if any, just made everything worse. The more he put it off, the more he lost the courage to tell them the truth. Draco Malfoy's warning was not helping things either…

"Potter," a voice round the corner spoke up.

Speak of the devil.

"Hello Malfoy," Damien returned, still remaining slightly wary as he regarded the elder boy.

"I have a plan to find out whether Harry's plan was intentional or not," Draco said, even as his wand drew patterns in the air idly. Damien recognized the wand movement to identify the spell as a Silencing Charm. "But I require an owl. An intelligent one. School owls are easily susceptible."

"The owl isn't going to be harmed or damaged in any way, is she?" Damien questioned, warily.

Draco rolled his eyes. "Much as your reaction would be amusing, I'm not interested in slaughtering an owl Potter," he drawled.

"All right then, I guess," Damien muttered. "But I thought you had your own eagle owl?"

"It was killed," Draco said flatly.

Damien couldn't think of anything appropriate to say. "Ah," he said, eloquently.

"I'll require your snowy to deliver something for me by end of this evening, after I get Dumbledore's permission," he told Damien. "so I'll meet you at the Owlery during dinner tonight."

The youngest Potter paused. "_During _dinner."

"Yes," Draco said testily.

"Fine. Deal," Damien bit out, turning to walk down the corridor. Since he wasn't going to have any dinner, he might as well make up for it by eating more breakfast.

"By the way, Potter," Draco called out behind him, "my decision still stands. If Granger or Weasley gets involved in this, I am not, anymore."

"Why can't you just work and co-operate nicely with them? They're my best friends!" Damien retorted as he whirled around, angrily. "And if this is something to do with your stupid blood status again, I swear I'll-"

"No" Draco cut him off coldly, "it's just their capabilities that are worrying. Good day to you too, Potter."

He turned and strode away, leaving Damien scowling behind his back.

* * *

_Riddle Manor_

A grand total of forty eight minutes had passed since Harry had returned from Hogwarts, and Lucius was getting increasingly frantic as the Dark Prince showed no sign of regaining consciousness. Even he, a Potions prodigy, was baffled as to why every single remedy of his failed to work on the boy, and the Dark Lord's patience was beginning to wear thin. Every single day he dreaded to make the report on Harry's seemingly deteriorating health, but today was different, as he'd just uncovered a revelation.

Swallowing, and mentally bracing himself for a round of torture by Voldemort's wand, Lucius knocked on the door of the chamber hesitantly. There was a slight pause, as Lucius started to pray that Voldemort was in, then the doors swung open.

The chamber was the same in which Voldemort and Harry had duelled before the latter had left for his mission at Hogwarts. Not that the fact helped improve Lucius' condition one bit.

He came forwards and knelt to the ground as he kissed the hem of the Dark Lord's robes, before backing away, as in procedure.

"My lord, I have come to report on the Prince's health condition," Lucius began in a low voice, noting that there were impenetrable Silencing Charms cast at every single nook and corner around the room. "There is as of yet no improvement... but this morning I uncovered an unexpected... revelation."

"Explain," Voldemort ordered tersely, his ruby red eyes never once leaving Lucius.

"I...I have found out the cause of the Prince's unconsciousness," Lucius said, trying to force himself to stay calm, "and I fear that the Prince is suffering from the after effects of... a stronger version, of the Markalline curse."

Voldemort's eyes flashed. "I assure you that he did not."

"But my Lord," Lucius continued desperately, "his body is showing all the relevant symptoms. He fails to respond to any form of medication nor healing magic, and his condition is getting worse. I cast a spell to check on his power levels, and discovered them to be... barely above zero," he whispered the last part.

He braced himself for the Crustacius, but after a short pause he looked up, to meet Voldemort's dangerous gaze. "You _will _save him, Lucius," the Dark Lord hissed, his wand aloft suddenly, "or you will find that the _traitor _you shield will come to suffer at my hands, from the same fate."

With a shiver, Lucius knew without a doubt that the Dark Lord was referring to his own son, Draco. "I will do everything in my ability, even beyond," whispered Lucius, his voice husky; Voldemort's gaze was as if daring him to lie, to cross the line determining _his _own fate. "...but I can not be certain, if that is enough. Har- the Dark Prince had extraordinary powers, and that is the sole reason he still survives. Any other average wizard who had suffered from such a curse would not have survived."

"It was no curse, Lucius," Voldemort spoke, his eyes averting from the crouching Death- Eater at his feet. "It was the magic of the blood wards itself. Harry broke out of it and paid the price."

Lucius shook his head. "I don't understand, my Lord. I have asked him certain questions regarding the matter before, my lord- and Harry... the Dark Prince assured me that he would come to no harm if he were to pass through the wards. He even offered to let me view his reports and documents on the formation of the blood wards-"

"I am aware of that," the Dark Lord snapped. "I must ask you the favour of refraining from stating the obvious in my presence, Lucius."

The eldest Malfoy swallowed. "I have done some research on the area my lord," he continued, "and in the few cases in which wizards are stripped of all magic yet manage to survive are due to extraordinary circumstances. One, the patient must have had higher power levels that the normal wizarding community; two, there must be a magic donor..." Lucius paused, "...who carriers extraordinary power and whose magic is compatible to the patient's as well. Else, both the donor nor the patient will survive the transfusion."

Lucius didn't dare to bring up the case of James Potter, though it was considered a recent proof of his research.

"And if the victim is left to recover their power levels on their own?" Voldemort questioned, his tone betraying nothing.

He didn't know what to answer. Surely, the Dark Lord himself knew the outcome. "In most _normal _cases," Lucius said carefully, "they die."

Voldemort turned away, his eyes glinting. "Send for James Potter immediately. It's time he repaid his debt."

Lucius bowed low, but he couldn't help but whisper his doubts, even though he was standing before the Dark Lord himself. "What if it does not work, my Lord?" he asked. "James Potter is weak from him imprisonment. Is it worth it to take the risk?"

If James Potter's power levels were too low, most likely both he and his son would be killed painfully during the transfusion.

The Dark Lord's eyes hardened. "If Harry does not recover," he hissed softly, "...then he is no longer of any use to me."

* * *

James was in the middle of sticking his prongs into the keyhole for the umpteenth time when they heard a loud, echoing creak echoing from somewhere above them. At Sirius' warning hiss, James immediately changed back into his original form. When a bright shaft of light was shone into the cells, revealing the form of Lucius Malfoy without even his Death- Eater mask, James managed to glance up from his position on the floor of the cell at the man, directing much of his hatred through his gaze.

Malfoy merely laughed at the display. "Are we having a glaring contest as well as war, Potter? How childish."

There was a flash of light, and James' cell door clicked open with another rusty creak. James shielded his eyes from the bright light as Lucius jerked his wand. Immediately, James was forced to his feet, to follow Lucius out of the cell.

"_Where are you taking him?" _demanded Sirius from the next cell, his voice dangerous.

Lucius glanced loftily behind him. "The Dark Lord requires a favour from Potter... I'm afraid you'll have to wait patiently for your turn, Black."

The next moment, the only door leading into the prison cell slammed shut, and Sirius was once again left to stare alone into the darkness, hoping against hope that his best friend might somehow make it through the ordeal alive.

xXx

The silver serpent- chain binding around James seemed to tighten with every step he took, as Lucius forced his movement now and then with a flick of his wand. Despite the circumstances, James couldn't help but feel extremely humiliated the way he was tied up and in the complete mercy of his old arch enemy Lucius Malfoy. If it hadn't for his own stupid plan, which led to Sirius' capture, he wouldn't be stuck in this horrible mess!

He didn't even dare imagine the state of things he had left behind since his capture. The Order would undoubtedly be in complete disarray and distraught, not to mention Lily. He felt his heart clench tightly at the thought of her, waiting in Potter Manor in increasing panic and fading hope, praying for her husband's return. And this time, Damien wouldn't be there to comfort her either.

Suddenly, Lucius stopped in his tracks; they had arrived at the main entrance into Azkaban. There was a series of 'clicks' before the wooden door opened, to reveal a surprisingly beautiful scenery of an endless glittering sea before them. James, however, could manage no more than a few more peeks before he slammed his eyelids shut. Direct exposure of strong sunlight after what felt like eternity trapped in complete darkness was painful, even though he had craved for it for such a long time.

There was a vice- like grip on his elbow, and without warning, he felt himself being compressed at all sides, with everything spinning wildly. He fought for a breath, but however hard he struggled, he couldn't _breathe-_

"Potter," hissed a soft voice, all too familiar to his ears. Forgetting the blinding pain, James gulped a huge breath of air and opened his eyes.

He was on his knees, before the hem of a dark robe... Voldemort.

With a pure, animalistic snarl of rage, James leapt to his feet, but the chains immediately constricted his entire body, crushing his ribs, at the same time they began to burn. A gasp of pain escaped him before he could help it, and James found himself stumbling backwards until his tied feet tripped over themselves and he ended up where he began.

"You have something I want, Potter, and it would be of your best interests to co- operate," Voldemort spoke, ignoring the obvious agony his prisoner was in.

"I would die before I willingly _co- operate with you!" _James spat, his eyes burning with undisguised rage and hatred. "Quite on the contrary, I swear I'll make you _pay _for every single thing you took away from me."

"I wouldn't be so sure, Potter," Voldemort laughed, his voice cold. "Firstly, you wouldn't have a choice in the matter... and even if you did, I'm still certain that you would comply to my wishes."

"You don't make sense," James said, struggling against the bonds. "You're deluded to think that we ever have something in common."

Voldemort did not reply. He stepped forwards and pressed his wandtip into James' forehead, causing the eldest Potter to buck in agony.

The next second, James went limp, his unconscious form sprawled on the ground like a broken puppet. The Dark Lord came to a halt before the eldest Potter, directing his wand carefully at his temple.

"_Imperio."_

xXx

Harry had been trapped in a vortex of shadows, darkness and agony ever since he passed out right outside the barriers of Hogwarts. In the illusion his mind created, there was a dark circle surrounding him, and its function seemed to be much like the Batra bracelet. Everytime he tried to exit the confined space, excruciating pain would shoot through him, forcing him to retreat back into the circle.

He had never experienced the saying 'put a toe out of line' quite so literally.

The biggest problem was of course, his magic- or the lack thereof. He could no longer sense the comforting immense power residing deep within him, nor could he conjure up the simplest of shields to let himself pass. For all he felt, he was completely drained and tired, not a single spark of magic left in him. Sometimes, if he concentrated really hard, he would be able to sense flashes of the real world outside, but it took a huge amount of effort, and only then could he hear a few distant noises, sometimes the clinking of glass, mostly others- complete, dead silence.

At that precise moment, Harry thought he could hear distant footsteps, and most importantly a strong, familiar aura heading his way. He felt sense of desperation, trying to break free of the circle, out of the world of illusion he knew his mind built in his unconsciousness, but he was still too helpless and weak against the circle.

In the background, he heard someone speak. He thought it might be his father's, but the words were unintelligible. This continued for several seconds before he suddenly felt a stinging pain on his palm. Blood oozed out from the wound, and Harry couldn't help but wonder whether this was indeed happening in the real world or if this was just another trick his mind was playing on him.

But just as he began to doubt himself, he felt a force slam into him, a trickle of power seeping through the wound in his palm. Hungrily, he accepted the power, and slowly he felt his magic begin to return to him, drip by drip. However, his magic was quickly used up by his body to replenish his health and help him regain his senses a little, leaving him powerless to resist the circle preventing him from regaining full consciousness again.

"He needs more magic, my Lord," this time, Harry heard the words clearly- and he knew the familiar voice... Lucius'. "Potter's magic is not strong enough!"

There was no response, and Harry in his sub- consciousness continued to drain up the magic channelled into him. He couldn't help but feel impatient; the trickle of power was getting steadily weaker. He felt himself unintentionally drawing more and more from the source, until quite suddenly there was absolutely nothing left for him to feed on, there was no longer any supply of magic-

Excruciating pain, stronger than he imagined it to be, coursed through him, sending his virtual self to his knees, at the very same time he could sense a cry of alarm in the world of consciousness. There was a call, words exchanged, then-

"_Leave me, Lucius!" _the familiar voice hissed, a deadly edge to the tone.

Then he felt himself sinking and sinking into pools of darkness once more, this time dragging the one who supplied him with magic along as well. Pain was everywhere, hurting every fibre of his being, he was once again rendered helpless. He'd never been this weak, this powerless ever since he was only seven, when he had been fighting the Death- Eaters for the lives of the two children...

There was a sharp jolt of electricity, another shot of pain, as the drying source of magic was torn away from him, viciously. He was sent back, reeling from the aftershock, feeling the pain driving him once more to the ground, until he could no longer bear it-

_Magic of identical cores, willingly given, for the other's to be restored-_

Then a stronger force, so much more powerful than the one before, slammed into him, engulfing his entire being in magic. The transfer of power was too great, he could sense raw power coursing through his very being- yet it hurt, it was overwhelming-

He felt his energy returning, the circle around him vanishing, then-

Silence. Absolute silence.

Harry's breathing eventually evened out, falling back into rhythm. The source of magic feeding his drained core left him, but he did not notice. For once in many years, his sleep was deep and dreamless.

* * *

Lucius was pacing outside, unable to calm himself down. To say he was worried was a great understatement, he was frantic; distraught, as though he were going insane.

He could not hear anything going inside; the Silencing charm on Harry's door prevented him from guessing what was happening. And the worst place for a panicking wizard to be is in an unknown situation. He hated not knowing; he feared for the condition of the Dark Prince, the consequences if Harry failed to make it through and, in a deeper, buried part of him- his only son, Draco.

He had neglected the boy much during his son's last stay at Malfoy Manor, as he was mostly busy in Riddle Manor instead- but part of him feared what would happen if he got too attached to the boy, who was close to being named on the wanted list of the Dark Lord's. Perhaps it was cowardly of him, but Lucius was afraid that if he spent too much time thinking of his son, whenever the Dark Lord decided to invade his mind using Legilimency, Voldemort would see Draco in his memories. And there was a thin enough line as it was that was keeping Voldemort from hunting down the traitor and killing him in the most gruesome manner possible.

Quite suddenly, the door clicked open. Lucius started up, his heart beating, expecting the worst, but then the Dark Lord walked out, his demeanor cold, but reasonably calm- not quite so out of control than when he had been in the room previously.

"My Lord?" he questioned tentatively. "Is everything ... alright?"

"Take care of the rest," Voldemort told him, as he walked past the Death- Eater. "And do not let anyone disturb me for the next three days, or my patience with you is gone."

His words barely registered as Lucius bowed low, then once the Dark Lord was out of sight, he leapt up the stairs and led himself into Harry's room.

The first thing that hit him was that there was blood everywhere. On the sheets, on the floor... everywhere except for Harry's palm. James Potter was still sprawled across the floor, unconscious- maybe even dead, he couldn't tell, but that was not his primary concern. Almost apprehensive, Lucius took a shaky step forwards, noting the the rhythmic rise and fall of Harry's chest, before relief crashed down him like a tidal wave.

Harry was still extremely pale from the entire ordeal- he looked like a corpse, but a healthy one at that. Lucius supposed it was not a good sign, but for now, it was more than enough.

* * *

_A few hours previously..._

"Are you sure this is a good idea?" Damien whispered as he finally found the elder Slytherin, who was lurking in the shadows. "And what did you say to Dumbledore for him to allow Hedwig to deliver the letter anyway?"

"I wouldn't tell you to trust me, but I know what I'm doing," Draco hissed back. "Follow me."

Feeling more than hesitant, Damien tailed after Draco as they headed towards an empty classroom, wishing that he was back in the Great Hall enjoying dinner with his friends. He had been in a sour mood all day, as Draco had refused to let Ron and Hermione in the secret, and he was fed up with bottling up the truth and pretending that all he said that day had been just an effect of the concussion to his head. He could have chosen to go on his way and tell his friends the secret all the same, but much as he hated to admit it- he needed Draco's help more than theirs... Draco was the only one who seemed to have a plan.

Not that he was keen to share it.

"Can you at least tell me what are we doing?" Damien asked, his voice still lowered to an annoyed whisper. "You said we were going to the Owlery!"

"Change of plan, that place is in public, we might be easily overheard or seen," Draco replied. "In."

He held the door of the classroom open, and after inhaling deeply to help purge his rising irritation, Damien entered without another word. Draco entered after him and closed the door behind them with a click.

"Did you lock it?" Damien accused, a tad warily.

"Yes," Draco answered, deciding to be completely truthful. "Though if you're still paranoid about my intentions, I can tell you something that can make you feel better... at least for a short while. Layhoo Jisteen."

Damien scowled before the words actually hit him. "What do you mean for a short while?"

"Because I'll be needing you to take it off."

The youngest Potter glared at that answer. "No," he said flatly. "Never again. The last time I did, I got Stunned and tied up and I ended up losing my memory-"

"Then we won't be able to find out a thing," Draco snapped. "Stop being so paranoid, Potter! Are you actually going to try to learn and defend yourself, instead of depending on that magic stone the entire time?! Sometimes, I think you'd have grown stronger and better without it, but of course Harry wouldn't listen."

So Draco knew everything about the Layhoo Jisteen then. But that didn't comfort Damien one bit.

"What's the plan?" Damien asked. "I'm not agreeing to it or anything, but I'm willing to hear it out... if it's good, then maybe I will."

Draco paused for a moment before speaking. "Seeing as you're one of the Secret Keepers of Hogwarts," he began, but Damien immediately cut him off.

"How in Merlin's name did you know that!"

Draco gritted his teeth in annoyance. Working with Potter was indeed in a great pain. "Stop interrupting me, Potter. Harry might have told me once, alright? So can you just stop the suspicious act already!"

"Sorry," the youngest Potter mumbled, dropping his gaze to the floor. "You can... continue."

Damien really knew how to pick his moments, Draco thought darkly. "I will," he said aloud, forcing down his weak but existent Occlumency barriers around his mind in an effort to calm himself. "We are not going to obtain Dumbledore's permission to send the letter, seeing as its contents will be highly suspicious especially if we place charms around it, and the school staff are entitled to intercept any form of mail students intend to send for, supposedly, our own safety. But seeing as you are a Secret Keeper, you can pass through the barriers of Hogwarts anytime you like- you're free to go as you wish.

"So this is where your stone comes in. Hedwig, your owl does not have any magical core, much unlike a wizard. Therefore, if you place the stone around your owl and as well as your signature magic over it, we might be able to fool the barriers to think that your owl is the Secret Keeper instead and allow her passage."

"I still don't see why I must let _Hedwig _wear the stone," Damien said, confused.

"Because, Potter," Draco said exasperatedly, "it gives off a strong magical aura, which is marked by your brother's blood, which is identical to yours. It also carries a specific protection for you alone. This strong magic may be able to pass for an underage wizard's aura, that is why with it we may be able to fool the barriers and send Hedwig with our letter."

Damien frowned. "Say I agree to this," he said grudgingly, "what's the point of the entire thing? Who are we going to send a letter to, and why?"

Draco's stormy grey eyes immediately hardened. "Firstly, it's you who is going to send the letter... and we're going to write it to my father."

* * *

_Malfoy Manor; Late Night_

It turned out that James Potter had survived the transfusion as well, how- he could not understand. But seeing as the Dark Lord had previously planned for Harry himself to deal with his much hated biological father, Lucius decided to let the Auror live. He healed most of the man's external injuries, and even went as far as giving him a potion or two to help replenish his magical stores, not that it would help much. But eventually, the eldest Potter too seemed to miraculously gain health.

Lucius had promptly sent the eldest Potter back to Azkaban after that, back to cell beside a furious Black, but he was careful to lead the Dementors away from their cells. He wasn't sure if James Potter could survive them as of yet.

It was much much later when he finally returned to Malfoy manor, after working tirelessly throughout the day. He felt drained and exhausted with the many magical spells he had used extensively, but he supposed it was worth it.

It was just when he had just poured himself a glass of Firewhiskey and settled down in his velvet armchair when there was a strange tapping noise on the window. Immediately, Lucius recognised the sound, but he felt instantly on guard- who would write to him, and at such an hour too?

With a flick of his wand, the nearest window in overlooking the gardens snapped open, and a snowy white owl flew in, hooting softly. Sighing, Lucius laid down his glass and untied the roll of parchment attached to the leg of the bird, which was eyeing him with its huge amber eyes.

He turned over the letter, and let out a gasp of surprise. He had never expected this.

_To Mr. Malfoy Sr. :_

_I have sworn never to tell of this secret, but someone's life is hanging in the balance, so I will make this exception. Following an attack from the Dark Lord three days before, as I'm sure you're aware of- the Hogwarts barriers has been weakened, and so has the Secret Keepers of the blood wards._

_Your son, Draco Malfoy, is one of them. Dumbledore is refusing to help. We are completely clueless regarding the magic of these wards, so your assistance is in great need._

_Sincerely,  
Damien Potter_

Information, Lucius realized immediately. They needed inside information regarding the blood wards.

He should have known, he thought belatedly, as he rose up from his chair in rising frustration. His son had been so foolish, so naive; after defending Harry for the last time, he should have anticipated Dumbledore's move. The Order had tried to convert Draco over to the light, and they seized the opportunity while Harry was Draco's best friend to do so, and they succeeded. It was also the perfect plan; no one would ever suspect Draco Malfoy, a Slytherin, a Malfoy, and once the leader of all the junior Death- Eaters to be the Secret Keeper of the Hogwarts.

And now that Dumbledore had his use for Draco, he had simply just ditched the boy...

Yet, could this just be another ruse? Could this be Dumbledore's plan to find more inside information? He was familiar with the Headmaster's handwriting, so was Draco's, so this ought to be from Potter's hand... unless it was a forgery.

How else, after all, could Damien Potter have managed to send the letter to him through Hogwarts' barriers, without Dumbledore's consent?

Yet much as he did not like to admit it, he could not simply ignore the letter, not when its reason was plausible. Deciding that he would give it the benefit of doubt, Lucius immediately stood, and hoping the bird would understand him- and feeling extremely foolish for doing so at the same time- he spoke to the snowy owl.

"Stay here," he commanded.

The owl glared at him for a moment, before hopping onto the arm rest of his chair for a better perch and hooted sulkily. Lucius grimaced in distaste, before grabbing his travelling cloak and leaving Malfoy Manor once more.

xXx

Since he still remained doubtful of the letter, Lucius decided to take the best course of action- to send all the information he was sure Dumbledore already had back to Damien Potter. That way, if Dumbledore hoped for gaining more information (which was unlikely, but he couldn't dismiss the possibility)- the manipulating old fool would gain nothing from him; yet if it were really Damien Potter seeking his help to aid his son, he hoped against hope they would benefit from it.

His heart gave an unpleasant lurch as he thought of his son, alone and unprotected at Hogwarts; a broken puppet still attached to Dumbledore's string, and felt a surge of hatred.

If Damien Potter was speaking the truth, Dumbledore would have to pay dearly.

Within 8 minutes, Lucius was back from his mission at Riddle Manor, a new copy of Harry's plans detailing the formation of the blood wards clutched in his hands. He charmed it to look like a blank piece of paper, then paused. For a moment, Hedwig watched him as he reached for the Malfoy signet ring on his right index finger and took it off, before pressing the seal in it onto the parchment.

There was a flash of blinding light, then Lucius tied it up in a scroll to Hedwig's offered leg.

"Do not let anyone intercept the letter," he told her seriously, somehow, the previous ridiculousness of talking to an owl fading in such a grave situation. He had not signed the parchment, but it was best to never take chances.

The owl gave an obliging hoot before soaring out of the window, into the night sky.

* * *

**A/N: Hello, here's another update from me! Thank you so much for reading, please do leave me a comment before you exit the page!**

**Rating system:**

**':D' for amazing/ awesome**

**'O' for okay**

**'X' for terrible.**

**I hope you enjoyed the read... so do tell, what do you think about chapter 21? :)**


	22. Chapter 22: Falling back into place

**The Second Chance**

DISCLAIMER: I do not own anything of Harry Potter. This story is inspired by Kurinoone's awesome amazing story 'The Darkness Within', which was inspired by Project Dark Overlord's wonderful fic- 'A Shattered Prophesy'.

**Sincerely hearfelt thanks to: **_Nightcrawlerfw, rainbow girl 09, Smfri, Jessica, Harry fanfic, Phoenixx Rising, LadyGryffin17, v1cky84, Ash- Bookworm 113, Kimco 96, Kurinoone, Black Panther 101, Oirasse, TommyTooth, coolchickdiv, The Other Guy Hulk, Priyanish Potter and 3 other unnamed guests :) _**for your helpful comments, encouragement and support given in the last chapter, this chapter is for you. ;D**

* * *

_"...So, when do you think we'll receive a reply?" Damien asked as they stood in the Owlery, after watching Hedwig soar out with their letter minutes ago._

_Draco remained impassive. "I'm not sure if we will," he answered, his voice emotionless._

_Damien's eyes widened. "What? Why not? I thought it was part of your brilliant plan!"_

_The elder Slytherin shrugged. "However brilliant you may find my plan to be, it all depends on my father. If he chooses to ignore the letter... then we won't be receiving any form of reply."_

_The youngest Potter thought about this for a moment, before guessing wildly, "Does that mean that you're not sure whether he cares enough about your well being to be concerned?"_

_Draco shot him an odd look, as though he were disgusted by the idea. Damien, in reply, raised his eyebrows._

_"You have a knack of missing the main point, Potter."_

_"Oh, I don't think I did," Damien said in an annoyingly knowing voice, grinning like an idiot at the same time._

_The elder of the pair raised an eyebrow at that expression. "You do realize Potter, if you irk me too much, I might feel obliged to curse you... and this time you won't have the magic stone to protect yourself."_

_"I can defend myself reasonably well!" Damien retorted indignantly. "Sometimes I wish that I had duelled you instead that day."_

_"Oh please, you couldn't even defeat Rosier," Draco scoffed. "And besides, if you had... we'd probably have never realized who Kit was."_

_Damien fell silent, contemplating, before he eventually spoke up. "What really made you act that way?" he asked hesitantly. "Why did you fire a dark curse at Kit when he just let you get back your wand?"_

_"It was just an instinct, but it overtook me nevertheless," Draco replied dismissively. "I wanted to bait him."_

_He turned to walk away, out of the doors leading to the Owlery, before he paused. "Tell me when your snowy returns."_

_Damien hadn't even replied when Draco had vanished from his line of vision._

_Sometimes, he really wondered what his elder brother saw in the Slytherin._

**Chapter 22: Falling back into Place **

Damien couldn't sleep that night, something which was happening more and more frequently. His mind was in a unique jumble of anxiety, hope, fear, panic, joy, sadness and worry- and he was beginning to wonder how on earth could he possibly feel so much at the same time. His mind kept wandering back to Harry, or more accurately- Kit, then Dumbledore- then with a lurch of his heart, his parents. What would his father say if he found out that Damien had kept his revelation about Harry secret again? He would be beyond furious...

But there was not much he could do about it, was there? He couldn't tell anybody else about it, or Draco sworn he would be out of the plan. Perhaps a little later, after Draco's plan was already in progress, then maybe he could persuade the Slytherin to let others in on the secret...

...but Voldemort must not discover that they have worked out the secret, else Harry might suffer the consequences... this time, he might just kill the Dark Prince for real...

Why hadn't he last time, though? What had made Voldemort go back on his words? Snape had been there, he had witnessed the torture of the Dark Lord inflicted upon Harry- although Damien did not hear much of the descriptions, he knew that Voldemort had used a whip as a form of punishment, as though to remind Harry of the days when he was only four years old, tortured by his pseudo- biological parents.

The Dark Lord had promised death to whoever who betrayed him, yet the same punishment did not befall on Harry... he had merely wiped his 'son's memories clean, spun another lie, and used him all over again, just like a pawn.

The problem was that Damien was not sure if Harry was ony just a pawn to Voldemort... not anymore.

xXx

The youngest Potter had asked Hedwig specifically to come to his dorm window to alert him first thing once she returned. Naturally, he planned to stay up all night waiting for his owl, but his brain had better ideas and decided to send him off into a deep, somewhat nightmarish sleep. He had almost yelled aloud in fright when the first thing he saw after opening his eyes was Hedwig's huge amber ones. Though they were nothing like Voldemort's, the colour resemblance was a bit close...

Groaning, Damien stumbled out of bed to shut the window he had thoughfully left open for Hedwig before he fell asleep. He had also cast a Warming Charm around the window so that the chill outside wouldn't enter and wake the other students. At least, it was supposed to be a Warming Charm. What with the increasing stuffiness of the room, Damien was worried that he'd ended up heating the window frame instead.

As soon as he had detached the letter from Hedwig's leg, he muttered the counter charms Draco had attempted to teach him. It took him several tries, but finally the Layhoo Jisteen began to materialize, and with a sigh of relief and contentment, Damien slipped on the stone again, feeling extremely accomplished after managing to reverse a few advanced spells on his own. The feeling soon faded, though, when the youngest Potter remembered that his eldest brother most probably could have managed that feat when he was only seven years old.

He waved Hedwig off with the promise of a treat later, then opened the parchment with barely concealed excitement.

It was completely blank.

Of course, this was hardly surprising since Lucius Malfoy was the sender. It was bound to be under some protective charm or spell; Damien could almost trace the lingering presence of magic over the letter, but he had no idea how to open it.

It looked like he just had to wait for Draco Malfoy after all...

* * *

Draco looked up from the toast he'd been picking with on his plate. Class was due to start in twenty minutes, but the youngest Potter had yet to make an appearance at the Gryffindor table.

Earlier that morning, Draco had already visited the Owlery, and Hedwig's presence, with the absence of the Layhoo Jisteen, confirmed that she had returned last night, and Potter was currently holding (if any) the reply from his father. Well, if Potter thought he could read the letter without Draco's help, he would be solely mistaken.

Speaking of which...

"Excuse me," said Draco pointedly to the girl sitting beside him, whose elbows were sticking uncomfortably close to his. The girl seemed to smirk at this, and Draco felt as though she had gained another point in something, though he was too tired to care about Slytherin power plays right now. He had only one objective in mind, and that was the seemingly empty parchment Potter had stuffed carelessly in his bag.

He passed by the Gryffindor table, throwing a meaningful look in yawning- Potter's direction, before walking past quickly. Then he proceeded to wait in the shadows with a Notice- Me- Not charm cast around him, which he found very useful ever since he'd returned from being declared a traitor to Slytherin.

Five minutes later, Draco was starting to pace around in his little hiding place, having found no sign of Potter heading towards him. Surely he had been obvious enough! Any less subtle and the others, especially Dumbledore and the other Gryffindors, might notice something off. If Potter didn't even manage to get _that, _he was a lot denser than what Draco gave him credit for.

"So you're really here?" an all too familiar voice spoke up. "Who would have thought!"

Draco narrowed his eyes in annoyance as he turned around to face Damien. "What a surprise to see you too, Potter!" he hissed sarcastically. "That was generally the idea, idiot."

Damien thinned his lips but said nothing as he followed Draco into the nearest empty classroom. The Slytherin quickly locked and Silenced the area- reminding Damien idly of Harry. Both of them were incredibly paranoid; no wonder they were best friends.

"So, do you have the reply?" Draco said at last, after he'd finished with the spell work.

Damien wanted to say 'I thought you weren't sure whether we were going to receive one' but he never said it out loud. Instead, he rummaged around in his bag and brought out the roll of seemingly empty parchment Draco had been eyeing all along in the Great Hall.

"That's not very subtle of you," Draco commented as he took it from the younger wizard. "I could see it the entire time you were having breakfast."

"Well, it's empty, so nobody except you would guess," Damien defended himself half- heartedly. Truth to be told, he had been so sleepy after failing to undo the spells around Lucius' letter that he'd simply stuffed the it into his bag last night, hence its rather crumpled state.

Draco said nothing as he took it from Damien and turned his back on him. Frowning, Damien tried to take a closer look at what Malfoy was doing, but Draco had already turned back to face him with the long scroll of parchment, which was now covered with words.

It was at that infuriating moment in which the bells for classes to begin started to ring. Damien groaned aloud at this, and Draco rolled his eyes, stuffing the letter away in his own pocket.

"Hey, I haven't read it yet!" Damien objected indignantly.

"It's not complete, we need Dumbledore's version first," Draco told him, unrelenting. "Now go back to class, we'll meet here again tonight. After curfew."

Damien groaned again. "You really do know how to pick your timing, don't you? And how do you propose _I _sneak out of the Gryffindor Tower?"

"A Disillusionment Charm, Notice- Me- Not charm... whatever," Draco seemed unconcerned. "You always manage to sneak out with Weasley, I don't see how this can be a problem for you. And mind you, Potter, don't be late."

"What do you mean we need Dumbledore's version? What's that about? You expect me to cooperate with you, but you never tell me any of your plans!" Damien yelled after Draco's retreating back, feeling both helpless and extremely irritated at the same time. "Tell me why I shouldn't simply go to Ron and Hermione instead for a better one?"

Draco merely looked bemused, but there was a hint of steel in his eyes as he spoke, "I wouldn't mind, Potter- you've already helped me achieve what I needed. If you want to turn to Granger and Weasel, run along. But don't expect further cooperation, not from me."

Damien gritted his teeth in utter frustration and despair as the door slammed shut behind him. He sank into the nearest chair sulkily, wishing he could throw a tantrum and demolish the classroom to vent his anger. Now that was one of the perks of being extraordinarily powerful; sometimes destroying things could bring about an immense bout of satisfaction.

The door swung open for the second time, and Damien found himself abruptly meeting his best friends' suspicious and worried gazes.

"We just saw Malfoy walk out," Ron told him, wearing an odd mixture of expressions on his face. "...what were you both doing in here, Damy?"

'Fabulous,' Damien thought darkly.

* * *

Meanwhile, far away in Riddle Manor, Harry woke up with a groan. His entire body felt as heavy as lead, and his head was pounding vaguely, but all those would be cured in a matter of minutes. Groggily, he pushed himself upright and opened his eyes.

He was back in his own room; and the curtains were still drawn shut, hence not permitting most of the light entry. Judging by the faint shadows thrown on the wall, Harry guessed that it was almost nine o' clock, but he couldn't quite be sure. Everything was fuzzy to him, which ought to be a feeling he was extremely familiar with by now, but somehow Harry still couldn't get used to it. He hated being in the unknown, when he had to rely on others to fill him in on things that had happened when he was passed out.

After examining himself and finding no physical injuries except for his right palm. It was wrapped in a bandage, and upon undoing it, Harry couldn't find any injury on it; except for the fact that there was a curious burn slashing across his fingers. Well, it could simply add to his collection of scars.

Physically, he still felt weak, as though he'd just been through intensive training for three days straight without food, but he quickly dismissed the fact and got up to get dressed. Perhaps an icy blast of water would help him recall his hazy memories of what had happened before he was knocked unconscious.

Ten minutes later, Harry was still frowning, trying to remember the events of what seemed to him, an eternity ago, but all he could remember was breaking out of the Hogwarts blood wards, before passing out in front of his father. Well, that was humiliating... but he supposed he could live with that. There was a niggling feeling that he was forgetting something important, but try as he might, he couldn't quite well remember.

There was a silent knock on the door. Harry sighed; there were only two people he could expect- Lucius and his father, Voldemort... who never knocked. So that narrowed it down to the former.

"Enter," Harry called out.

Indeed, Lucius entered a few moments later, carrying a tray full of potions, the sight causing Harry to smile slightly despite himself.

"You know, for a Death- Eater, you could certainly pass as a Healer at the moment," Harry smirked.

Lucius stopped. "Don't tell me, you've fully recovered by yourself all over again?"

"You make it sound as though it's a bad thing," Harry lifted an eyebrow. "Anyway, as much as I loathe to admit, I'm not completely healed yet... so the potions are still welcome, if you'll leave them on the table."

"I trust you can tell which is which," Lucius said with a slight smile as he laid the tray on the table. "Would you like to go downstairs for breakfast or shall I bring up a tray for you, Prince?"

Harry scowled at the familiar but distinctly unwelcome title. "No need, I'm not incapicated."

"Of course," Lucius bowed and turned to leave, before adding, "For your information, I know it's quite unbelievable for you... but you've been out for three days. Your body should take time to recuperate, longer than the usual... so don't do anything rash."

Harry narrowed his eyes at this, but Lucius offered no further explaination before he left Harry's room.

xXx

It was when Harry was in the middle of a huge breakfast, with much less appetite, completely alone that the name 'Bellatrix' flashed across his mind and instantly triggered the recall of his memories for the past three days. A cold feeling settled down over him as he remembered Potter's confession, the Daily Prophet in the library, how Potter had found him out, how _Voldemort _had stormed to Hogwarts to bring him back, how is scar had hurt him with such pain whenever he tried to continue his search for the answers.

His father knew he was trying to pursue the truth, that was why the Dark Lord attacked the castle... or rather, he would have- if not for Harry rushing out through the barriers immediately, just so Voldemort wouldn't forge ahead with Harry's plans and kill all the castle inhabitants in the process.

Harry instantly felt nauseous; he racked up his brains and tried to think of an excuse to give his father when the time came, yet there were none that sounded plausible. He had given his word that he would not try and dig further into the matter, but he had gone back on it.

But Voldemort himself hadn't been completely truthful with Harry either... there were too many plot holes, too many unfitting puzzles... Bellatrix's death, his stay at Hogwarts, his being placed under the Imperius Curse... none of those fit into Potter's story, nor the Daily Prophet's article. And Voldemort had been furious, frantic even- at snatching him back once his thoughts started to question his father's truthfulness...

A vague pain shot through his scar, enough to make Harry gasp, but that was the worst of it. Stunned, Harry sat back and waited for the next onslaught of pain, but felt... nothing. Previously, only a minor traitorous thought would be enough to inflict such pain on himself he had been driven to his knees in agony... now, somehow, the bond was weaker.

Harry waited a little longer at the breakfast table, before returning to his room- and later, the training grounds... yet Voldemort never sent for him. He didn't know whether he ought to feel relieved or anxious at the thought, but Harry was not going to meet the confrontation a little earlier than when he had to, so he did not venture down to Voldemort's study.

He did not see Lucius for the entire morning as well, and since he was not allowed outside his own Wing in the manor, there was little left for Harry to do except wander around aimlessly, contemplating, being bored and physically drained for more training. When noon came and there was still no sign of his father, Harry began to grow restless.

The next time he saw Lucius, he needed to question the man...

xXx

"Lucius, if I can have a word?"

The eldest Malfoy turned around, surprised, before his eyes rested on the dark, unfamiliar figure standing at the entrance of the Riddle Manor. A tall balding wizard with purple eyes. Lucius hid a smile at the odd combination of colour.

"Of course," he replied, on recognising the deeper- pitched voice. He nodded once to Avery, motioning for the man to move on ahead, before doubling back in the direction of the taller wizard. They took a short- cut route back to Harry's Wing across the gardens, before sealing their entrance with magic once more. As soon as they were back on the grounds, Harry let his glamour drop, his face growing young once more.

"What is the matter of such urgency, Prince?" Lucius asked as they strode together towards Harry's training grounds. "Despite your disguise, it was still rather risky to hail me out there in the presence of other Death- Eaters."

Harry waved his hand dismissively. "They would never have guessed," he said confidently. "What I want to know, Lucius, is what exactly happened after I passed out on the other side of the barriers? And how did that happen?"

Well, Lucius could answer those questions safely. "After you fainted," Lucius began, "the Dark Lord immediately called for the Death- Eaters to regroup and retreat back to Riddle Manor; we'd already got you. The Dark Lord Apparated you back to the manor himself. As for how it happened... that was the question I was going to ask you. I thought you told me you were absolutely certain that no harm would befall on you should you force your way through the barriers?"

"I was sure of it when I completed my plans for the blood wards. I was influenced by the Imperius Curse at that time, as _Dumbledore _used me to create the barriers for him, but that shouldn't have hindered me. The barriers couldn't have been the reason for my low magic levels..." Harry paused a while before he stopped dead in his tracks. Lucius turned around to have a proper look at him, before noticing with a rising sense of panic that Harry's eyes had grown dark... not a complete merciless black, but a deep forest green nevertheless.

"Prince?" Lucius asked hesitantly.

"_Don't tell me his magic is running through me,"_ Harry suddenly hissed, his tone fierce.

"Whose magic?" Lucius asked, although he already had a sinking feeling that he knew who. There was only one person that could make Harry grow so angry at the mere mention of him...

"_James Potter," _Harry spat, his eyes livid.

Oh no... Harry had caught on quicker than he'd thought.

Briefly, Lucius considered lying... but there was no point, since Harry was almost certain of the truth. Besides, it was not like the information was harmful in any way. "You were dying, Prince... your magic levels were stripped to barely above zero. Your health was deteriorating with each day that passed, and your father was desperate... so was I. The Dark Lord knew that the only way to save you was to donate magic of identical cores... and he'd already captured Potter the week before."

"Really?" Harry countered, sounding disbelieving. "Can you show me the memory of it, then?"

Lucius paused, instantly on guard... when had Harry been this openly distrustful, in front of him nevertheless? After mentally assessing the memory and finding nothing suspicious in it, Lucius allowed Harry to view it, putting it in his forefront mind so that Harry, with his somewhat junior Legilimency skills could still access it. Of course, he had purposefully blocked out a few sentences, like when Voldemort had threatened Draco.

A few seconds passed in silence, before Harry blinked, seemingly back in reality.

"Thanks, Lucius," he said, sounding relieved. "for telling the truth."

"Of course, Prince."

Lucius bowed and walked away, a niggling feeling of doubt in the back of his mind.

xXx

Unbeknownst to Lucius, Harry had already picked up on a seemingly unobvious clue from Lucius' memory, from the conversation between said Death- Eater and Voldemort himself.

_Send for Potter, Lucius... it is time that Potter repaid his debt._

What kind of debt had Voldemort been referring to? Was it merely a reference to Harry's abusive childhood, or had it been something else? And if Potter had indeed donated his magic to him, had Potter survived the transfusion as well? He hadn't thought to ask Lucius at that moment; it hadn't seemed important then. But now he couldn't help but wish he had an answer...

He had been wandering around in the main chamber by himself, when suddenly his foot stepped on something- a floorboard that sounded hollow. Curiously, Harry removed his foot and cast a charm on it to reveal what it was hiding. It was a strong curse, but not beyond Harry to break. Seconds later, he found himself staring at a wooden trapdoor, with the carving of a snake upon it.

Without quite realizing what he was doing, Harry stared at it, and subconsciously whispered in Parseltongue, "_Open."_

* * *

Damien was in the middle of finishing his lamb steak and mashed potatoes- the dish he couldn't help but remember had been a useful source of annoyance for Kit during his short stay at Hogwarts. He had made up a story about him confronting Draco about his allegiance, as he didn't believe that Malfoy would be allowed to return to Hogwarts safely after betraying the Dark Lord at Hogsmeade a month ago. The youngest Potter, however, was not that good in manipulating his own emotions and expressions, hence stirring suspicion within his friends while uttering the Dark Lord's name with such a carefree and relaxed smile, before he suddenly remembered the situation was very grave and hastened to look serious.

He could tell none of his friends really bought his lousy lie, but it was worth while- it bought him time. And perhaps, during that time, he could persuade Draco to change his mind. After all, the more brains working on this matter, the better.

Draco's words kept haunting him throughout the class as he puzzled over the Slytherin's words. What version of Dumbledore's had Malfoy meant? And what exactly had been in the letter from Lucius? How was that going to help Draco prove whether Harry's plan was intentional or not, and even so- then what? Would that bring them any closer to revealing Harry for who he was, and making him understand the truth again? Would this be just another painful circle of fate?

Lunch provided no distraction, and Damien gave up trying to catch Draco's eye. It was a bit too risky and suspicious especially after this morning's episode, and the Slytherin was clearly avoiding all eye contact anyway.

When dinner came, Damien was already so jumpy he couldn't wait for after curfew to meet with Draco and ask him about the letter. Even as the dinner bell rang, Damien had already raced down from the Transfiguration classroom and waited outside the castle, hiding behind the pillars as he muttered a Notice- Me- Not charm and waited for Draco to return from the dungeons.

Draco's last class happened to be double Potions with the Gryffindors, therefore Damien knew where to find him. He only hoped that Ron and Hermione wouldn't see him and lead him back to the castle before he found Malfoy.

He was fortunate that day. Draco was one of the few students that chose to leave the dungeons early, and Draco was walking alone towards the doors of the Great Hall when Damien caught him. The other students from the Potions class were either still held back at the dungeons or were far behind, chatting idly as they slowly made their way back to the castle.

"Malfoy, I'm not waiting for after curfew," Damien told him, stepping out of the shadows. "Can you just show me the letter now and explain it?! I've almost been driven insane by so many questions haunting my mind!"

Draco lifted a corner of his mouth at this, as though it were a half- mocking smile. Damien couldn't tell.

"Perhaps then," Draco agreed at last, "After all, Dumbledore won't be around this time either... in fact, this is a better idea."

Predictably, Malfoy did not elaborate further on the matter. But Damien held his tongue as they trooped back to the castle, one front and one back to give the impression that they weren't walking together. He would have his answers soon enough... at least, some of them.

Once they were inside the empty classroom once more, Draco snapped up the Silencing charm and locked the doors before producing the long roll of somewhat crumpled parchment, which was supposed to be Lucius' reply. Wordlessly, Draco passed it to the younger wizard.

"But this is Harry's handwriting!" Damien said excitedly, as his eyes scanned through the many words that made little or no sense to him. "How could have your father got this? And _what _exactly is this about?"

"It's Harry's plans, the ones he used to build the blood wards," Draco told him, plucking the parchment out of Damien's grasp neatly. "Clearly, Harry was the one that invented it, and he sent them over to Dumbledore for the Headmaster to shield the Hogwarts students. What I suspect is that, Harry sent the original version to Dumbledore, and left behind a modified copy for himself."

"What modified copy?" Damien asked, confused.

"It's just a theory," Draco said evasively, "We still need proof. Time is running short, it's dinner in around three minutes. Once we get Dumbledore's copy of these plans, I'll explain everything to you. I promise."

Damien thought of arguing further, but paused at the word 'promise'. To hear a Slytherin giving his word... well, that was rare.

"You'd better," Damien said at last, extremely grumpily. "So now... what's the plan?"

Draco paced up and down the classroom, thinking. "Those plans are an important source of information, so Dumbledore might and might not have them," he said. "However, judging by his eccentric and paranoid personality, I would guess that he does have at least one copy hidden in his office."

Damien swallowed. "I don't much like the idea of breaking into _Dumbledore's _office, of all people," he said. "There's still his pet phoenix, Fawkes, and the portraits will see us and tell him! Not to mention the Sorting Hat."

"The Sorting Hat can't actually see us nor our thoughts unless you put it on," Draco dismissed, "and although Fawkes will see us, I highly doubt it will speak nor report our actions to Dumbeldore. It is an ancient creature born of magic, not a surveillance tool. And as for the portraits... well, I'll be under a Disillusionment charm and you..."

"I... do actually have an Invisibility Cloak," Damien admitted somewhat grudgingly. "So count me in your plan."

Draco looked somewhat surprised at this revelation. "A real one, you say? Not a cloak with a flimsy Charm on it?"

"No. I'll be completely invisible, even more so than you, so don't worry," Damien replied, wondering for the umpteenth time whether trusting Draco was a wise idea. "So your plan is to enter his office while we're invisible, blindfold and silence and portraits then search for the plans? You know, that's not a very brilliant one. Why not we just write to _my _father instead? He's bound to help."

Draco frowned. "We can't afford to wait long, it'll take a shorter time if we break into Dumbledore's office. Not to mention the fact I don't think Dumbledore shared that information with all the Order members in general. And what if your father tells Dumbledore about this? We're not supposed to be able to use Hedwig to send letters."

"If I tell dad not to, he won't," Damien said confidently.

The elder Slytherin thought about this for a moment before saying, "We'll break into Dumbledore's office first. If we don't succeed, we send Hedwig."

"Does your plan on how we break into his office stand?" Damien asked, barely hiding a wince. "And what's the password to Dumbledore's office?"

Draco straightened at this. "Where is Peeves?"

xXx

Peeves was prowling around the second floor corridor when he heard suspicious shuffling noises. He immediately whirled around, and to his satisfaction, he caught sight of a shimmering patch of air somewhere to his right.

As if on cue, a shrill voice immediately broke the previous silence.

"Oh no!" squealed a voice in falsetto. "He's spotted you! Run! We'll try to shake him off!"

Peeves grinned at this. Shake him off? Not going to happen.

With a sinister cry of delight, he zoomed after the racing shimmering patch of air, which headed down the corridors, up another flight of stairs. The student was deadly fast, and sometimes when he was just about to corner said 'patch of air', the shimmer disappeared completely. It was with this progress that both Peeves and Draco arrived at Dumbledore's office, in front of the gargoyle.

Beneath the Invisiblity Cloak, Damien immediately whispered, "_Alohomora!" _and the office door opened with an audible click. Next came a gust of wind, presumably cast by Draco, and the door to Dumbledore's office was flung wide open. The stone gargoyles outside immediately leapt to attention, glancing around, but there was no one in sight; and nothing tried to pass the entrance they guarded.

Peeves, however, immediately jumped to the most obvious conclusion and went hurtling down the corridor, cackling evilly, "Students breaking into Dumble's office! Students breaking into Dumble's office!"

Minutes later, as expected, Dumbledore and Professor McGonagall appeared round the corner, wands aloft.

"Phoenix pudding!" Dumbledore told the gargoyles, which leapt aside. He and the Deputy Headmistress then proceeded to stride up the staircase towards the double doors, which were flung wide open by Draco's conjured wind.

For a moment, neither dared to move, then-

"_Phoenix pudding?" _Draco hissed incredulously beside Damien's invisible ear.

"I would never have thought of that myself," Damien admitted.

xXx

Five minutes later, Professor McGonagall was convinced that it was merely a prank on Peeves' part, and both she and Professor Dumbledore had left back for the Great Hall.

"Remember, the Charm is _Obscuro," _Draco told Damien again, as they crouched down the corridor in the shadows, both now clearly visible. "Direct it at as many portraits as possible, and whatever you do don't let your Cloak slip. We'll be remaining invisible for the entire time just in case someone sees us. Agreed?"

"Yes," Damien answered shortly. There really wasn't anything else to say. It seemed as though there were a lot of things he ought to remember to do and not to do, and working with Draco Malfoy of all people to break into Dumbledore's office seemed bizarre to him. Even more bizarre then when he, Ron, Hermione and Ginny broke into the museum to help Harry steal and destroy the Golden Quill, one of Voldemort's Horcruxes. It seemed like ages ago, now that he came to reflect on it. So much had happened.

"Then we enter on the count of three. Stay close behind, Potter."

With a flick of his wand, Draco flickered once more out of visible spectrum, and there was nothing left but a shimmering patch of air. Damien hastened to put on his cloak, noting with satisfaction that he was clearly more invisible than the elder wizard was.

Draco then approached the stone gargoyle, who seemed to be dozing off again. "Phoenix pudding," he said clearly, trying not to picture the dessert. Or was it even considered a type of dessert?

The gargoyle groaned slightly and allowed him passage, Damien following closely behind.

"You know, it would be easy to figure out who broke into his office," Damien whispered to Draco, a little belatedly he realized. "By blindfolding and silencing the portraits, they're bound to tell Dumbledore someone broke into his office... and since we're the only few if not ones who skipped dinner tonight, Professor Dumbledore is bound to make the connection."

"But he won't be able to catch us, nor prove it," Draco answered in a satisfied tone. "And that is all that matters."

"Really?" Damien sounded skeptical. Nevertheless, they had already arrived at the spiral staircase. As they stepped forwards, they were slowly transported up from the landing into Dumbledore's circular office.

Immediately after they reached the top, Draco was already moving, casting spells non- verbally. Some of the portraits who were sound asleep never even woke up. There were few outrageous cries, but Damien soon helped to silence them as well.

"I guess that was the hard part done," Damien said neutrally.

"No, Potter, it's just about to start," Draco said flatly. "Any suggestions on where should we start looking for it?"

"We can always try the desk first," Damien said, approaching the familiar wooden table where Dumbledore always sat behind in the few visits Damien paid to the Headmaster's office. Out of the corner of his eye, he could sense Fawkes stir on its perch, but he didn't dare look at it.

"Are you sure that phoenix will not report on us?" Damien mumbled, half- distractedly rifling through the rolls of parchment scattered around Dumbledore's table.

Draco didn't reply; he was busy running spells over a large antique wardrobe at the other end of the office. It was then when it hit Damien with a start- he realized with a sudden jolt the parchment he was holding actually bore... Harry's handwriting.

"Malfoy."

There was no reply.

"Malfoy. _Draco. I found it."_

It was only then when the Slytherin turned around, still under the Disillusionment Charm, but it was fading visibly. Damien supposed it drained a lot of one's strength.

Wordlessly, Draco approached the younger boy and ran a finger down the parchment. Sure enough, it was Harry's handwriting... and it was the exact plans detailing the formation of the Blood Wards. Draco seemingly had a better idea about what to look for, and within minutes, there was a triumphnat hiss somewhere to Damien's right, causing the youngest Potter to jump.

"Can you stop doing that hissing noise!" Damien whispered, rather loudly. "It's creepy when you actually sound like a snake!"

"I'm not a Parselmouth, Potter," Draco's disembodied voice spoke. "But as usual, that's not the main point. I've found it, I was right about it all along... though where did you find it?"

There was a sudden change of tone in the Slytherin's voice as he spoke, and Damien couldn't help but feel a slight stir of alarm. "Just on the desk... the first parchment. Why?"

"It couldn't have been there, unless it was expected... but no, that wouldn't be right either..."

Damien held his tongue, though he was inches from demanding what Draco meant by that. He had spent enough time conversing with the elder Slytherin to know that asking questions only meant delayed answers. Nevertheless, it was still quite a big shock for Damien when Draco suddenly spoke, "_Homenum revelio!" _and Damien felt a weird pulling sensation surrounding him.

Nothing else happened.

"What did you do that for?" Damien demanded, despite himself.

"Sorry Potter, once again- explain later. Now get out of here."

Draco gave a hefty shove in Damien's general direction just to get the point across.

"As though you're ever sorry," Damien muttered under his breath even as he quickly exited the office, Draco following behind him.

* * *

_Riddle Manor_

The trapdoor opened with a pneumatic hiss, which echoed down into the eerie depths of the chamber below. Harry reached into his robes and tossed a Knut down to estimate the depth, before jumping downwards.

He landed lightly in pitch darkness. Instantly, Harry recognized his father's magic; it was woven everywhere, which also was the source of the black fog that surrounded the entire area. His curiousity perked; what could it be his father was trying to hide?

Then something huge behind him lunged. Instinctively, Harry ducked out of the way and grabbed the creature's head tightly within his right fist, swinging it around to face him.

He was met with a large familiar cobra, which was struggling vehemently against his iron grip.

"_Nagini?" _Harry hissed, surprised. "_What are you doing here?"_

_"I apologise, young Prince, I did not realize it was you entering," _the snake told him, rearing backwards as Harry released her completely from his grasps. "_I thought you were an intruder."_

_"But why are you here? Why aren't you with father?" _Harry asked, narrowing his eyes.

The snake paused for a moment, before answering, "_I was ordered to guard this place."_

_"Where is this place, then?" _Harry tried a different approach, edging around the cobra, but Nagini immediately reared up again, as though to prevent him from entering.

"_No, young Prince, you must not enter. Master has forbidden all entry."_

_"His general orders don't usually apply to me," _Harry assured her, although inwardly his suspicion was beginning to stir. "_Or... did he specifically tell you to prevent me from entering?"_

A look at the snake's somewhat dismayed expression told Harry his answer, and his heart sank. Voldemort was indeed keeping things from him; if there had been no reason to doubt his father's words before, now there was. For he could tell that this was related to the incident in which he was supposedly Imperiused by Dumbledore last year... his scar had begun to flare up with earnest, as it had never done the entire time he had spent in Riddle Manor so far.

But entry to what? As far as Harry was concerned, he could make out a vague shape of a white wall just behind Nagini; there seemed to be nothing more to it.

Well, if Voldemort didn't allow him to find out, then he'd just have to take a look from a distance.

He pretended to pause, before suddenly reaching out with a blast of magic, clearing a huge hole through Voldemort's thick black fog. A jet of brilliant light errupted from his wand, lighting up the tunnel. Immediately, with an almighty roar, a tide of flame came thundering towards where he and Nagini stood, causing the snake to hiss in alarm, but Harry remained completely unmoved.

_Your fear will only come to pass if you allow it to become real._

It was ironic that he was using what his father himself had taught him to go against Voldemort. The wall of flames approached nearer and nearer; he could feel the intense heat rising from the wall. He cast a look at Nagini, then noticed that Voldemort had cast an invisible protection cage around her; it glowed a faint gold when the flames came near her. Then, as abruptly as it begun, the flames died down, leaving nothing but a wooden door before them... even the previous black smoke obscuring the place had disappeared.

Harry approached the door, his heart beating fast. It looked familiar, painfully so- he remembered staring at the other side of the door, praying for night to come for long, dreary hours. He remembered looking back for the last time, leaving that door leading to the kitchen closed behind him, escaping with Nagini out into the woods...

"...this place, this place was the woods," Harry murmured, the revelation somehow slowly taking form in his brain, but a part of him couldn't quite believe it. "And the green flames in the middle of the woods, how I came to find father..."

His gaze darted down the black corridor, and light filled his vision, driving away the darkness. There, far at the other end of the corridor- which happened to be a dead end, was a small fireplace, just enough for his younger self to enter.

He told himself his thoughts were completely absurd; he wouldn't have believed it for a moment. If not for the fact that his scar was flaming up with such intensity again, he could feel droplets of blood sliding down his face.

While Voldemort had thought that by causing Harry physical pain might prevent him from finding out the truth, the charm was a double edged blade; pain now taught Harry to recognise the truth.

As Harry stepped closer, Nagini reared up once more, barring his way completely. _"You have come too far," _she hissed, and much as Harry was fond of the snake, he knew that no matter what happened, her loyalties would always lie with Voldemort. He chanced another look at the familiar door. He could sense wards cast around it, but this one... he recognised the spellwork to realize he needed the password to enter.

By the light his wand was emitting, Harry could see there was a small golden ornate snake carved into the other side of the door knob. It could have meant nothing, but he thought he felt his scar prickle once more.

The password was in Parseltongue.

"_Open," _he tried, but nothing happened; the wards around the door still held.

"_You are leaving me no choice, young Prince!" _Nagini warned once more, but Harry knew she was still holding back... she had no intention to harm him, and he hadn't directly disobeyed orders... he wasn't trying to force entry...

"_Lord Voldemort! Death- Eaters! Bellatrix Lestrange! Lucius Malfoy!"_

There was no response. Harry forced himself to stay calm and think. This was a more difficult feat for him, as he was anticipating Nagini's attack any moment. Sometimes, the simplest things were the answer...

"_Godric's Hollow," _he tried, the name foreign on his tongue. Immediately, the wards began to dissipate, and the key on the locked door clicked open, as if inviting him in.

At once, Harry lunged after the door, at the same time Nagini's fangs sank into his arm. Harry's momentum carried him forwards, crashing into the door, Nagini still hanging onto his bleeding, ironically, left forearm.

Both he and the snake went crashing into the doorway, onto the dusty floor. When Harry looked up once more, he was in the exact replica of the Potter's kitchen back at Godric's Hollow.

**A/N: Sorry again for the longer than usual wait! :/ I get so easily distracted. Merlin Season 5 was so infuriating! Why couldn't Merlin be friends with Mordred?! If the directors turn Mordred's case to be just like Morgana's, I'm SO going mad. I don't like Merlin in this season, he's so paranoid and I wish he never "grew up". I don't like Mordred's mysteriousness, and Arthur is treating Mordred like his ten year old baby brother. He wasn't even half as nice and protective as he was of Merlin! Plus, Mordred looks almost the same age as Leon.**

**Sorry, I just needed to vent. This is getting off topic. Thanks so much for reading, and please tell me what you think about it? **

_About the reveal idea:_

I've** planned this scene for quite a while; as I always thought that Voldemort must have kept Harry in Riddle Manor all along, just that Harry was under the delusion that he was in Godric's Hollow until he was four years old. Then I noticed that in the Darkness Within, Kurinoone mentioned that Voldemort was shocked that Harry knew about the secret trapdoor, which could only be opened by Parseltongue. Hence my deduction that it was actually the path leading to the fake Godric's Hollow Voldemort built seventeen years ago.**

Do leave me a review please ;) and as usual, the rating system is as follows:

:D for amazing/ awesome

'.' for lovely

'O' for okay

'X' for terrible.


	23. Chapter 23: Let the moment last

**The Second Chance**

DISCLAIMER: I do not own anything of Harry Potter. This story is inspired by Kurinoone's awesome amazing story 'The Darkness Within', which was inspired by Project Dark Overlord's wonderful fic- 'A Shattered Prophesy'.

**To turkeyy, Scarlet Heart5, Oirasse, Harry fanfic, Ash-Bookworm 113, Tommytooth, Phoenixx Rising, LadyGryffin17, Manu, G, Jessica, v1cky84, TSRowenwood, coolchickdiv, NyraLilyPotter, 12, Kurinoone, Pryanish Potter and 5 special guests: **_words fail to express my utmost gratitude for your constant encouragement... your reading and reviewing my works have helped me improve loads in my writing throughout the years, from when I first started this story... :D Thank you ever so much! I can't believe I'm almost reaching 500 reviews! Massive thank you to all of you!_

**For those who like listening to appropriate soundtracks while reading.. :) : I listened to **the Piano Guys' Moonlight (electric cello) **while writing the first part of the story, then **Julia Sheer's You Will Never Be **and **If I Cry A Thousand Tears **for the last few parts. It's really the tune that fits the scene, not the lyrics, actually... **_  
_

* * *

**Chapter 23: Let the moment last**

For a moment, Harry was stunned; he couldn't believe what he'd just walked into. The entire scene before him was surreal; like a distant memory of a nightmare. The entire kitchen was coated with dust, as though no one had entered this abandoned room for years. But every pot and pan, the kitchen table, the oven, everything was just as he remembered. The soup bowl remained overturned on the stove; he could have just put it there to dry yesterday night. The kitchen stool was still in the corner, as though his younger self had just used it to reach the cupboards.

Something drew him forwards, an eerieness, nostalgia even, curiosity- and the pain flaring in his scar, brought him closer and closer, inching his steps forwards to look more, even though what he saw repulsed him, horrified him. Behind, Nagini hissed angrily, _"This is your last warning, Prince!"_

But Harry paid her words no heed; he whirled around, eyes growing a dark merciless black. "_Where is this place?" _he asked through clenched teeth, "_Tell me truthfully!"_

_"This is a restricted section in Riddle Manor, the Dark Lord forbids anyone to enter," _Nagini answered, her eyes boring into Harry's, "_Even I myself have never ventured this far- you are disobeying the Dark Lord's orders!"_

Harry's scar gave a painful throb, but he ignored it, blinking away the blurriness in his eyes, _"But how can you not know this place, Nagini?" _he hissed softly, "_After all, I remember- this is the place you first met me."_

_"This is just a replica!" _Nagini hissed, her voice furious, _"This is not the real Godric's Hollow."_

"_Really? Then tell me, why does Voldemort keep an exact replica of the house I've hated all my life in Riddle Manor?! __Do you have an answer?" _Harry shouted back at her, his eyes a merciless black.

Nagini launched herself at Harry with something closer to a snarl than a hiss, but Harry swerved narrowly out of the way; Nagini's enchanted cage sent pots crashing into the wall. _"What are you implying, then?" _the snake asked Harry, her eyes glittering.

"_This is not a replica," _Harry said numbly, staring at Nagini to gauge a reaction, part of him willing her to contradict his statement. It felt as though a part of him, the part of him that trusted his father inexplicably, the part of him that studied his father's reaction closely whenever he presented his master plans, despite the fact he told himself he never cared- was dying away like a winter flame, shaken by the wall was distrust building all around them. Voldemort never trusted Harry not to dig deeper into the matter; Harry never trusted Voldemort's words enough with the story he'd been given about his past year's life. But what did all of this mean? If he was doubting whether this was the Godric's Hollow he'd been brought up in...

...he'd be doubting his entire life.

"_You mean to say that this is the Godric's Hollow I took you away from?" _Nagini hissed, no longer attacking, her huge yellow eyes boring straight into Harry's emerald ones. "_Your trust in Master is shameful, Prince. I expected better..."_

Harry did not reply. He trusted Voldemort; he trusted the wizard who had rescued him from the Potters, whom had raised him up to be who he was. He wanted to go back up through the trapdoor, slam the door shut and seal it close behind him with Parseltongue. Pretend none of it ever happened. But he, much like Voldemort, could never turn his back on a lie; he needed to dig deeper, into the truth, even though it hurt; scarred.

_"I hate this too," _Harry told Nagini, who was watching him intently, "_Part of me wishes that I never opened this trapdoor, never found this place." _His voice was soft, but he could hear the break in it; he was sure Nagini could, too.

"_You should turn back," _Nagini hissed in reply.

_"I should," _Harry said, his smile bitter. But I'm not going to._ "Goodbye Nagini."_

He turned to leave through the trapdoor, not bearing the sight of the fake Godric's Hollow before him, but Nagini lunged after him, coiling part of herself around his feet, preventing him from leaving.

_"You're not leaving Riddle Manor," _she said, something like a warning in her tone.

His scar was throbbing so hard; a mixture of blood, pain and tears clouded over him. He shook his head slightly, prying his foot away from her, not wanting to hurt the first friend he ever had when he was younger. _"I will return," _he promised. _"Even if it's the last thing I do, I need to talk to him. But he's away now- so don't worry. I-I promise I'll come back when he does."_

Nagini tensed, fighting every fibre of her being not to tell Harry, Voldemort was right there in Riddle Manor; he had not left. If anyone could stop Harry, her master could.

_"What shall I tell him when he does?" _she questioned instead.

_"I know you must tell him the truth, that I forced my way in here. I'm sorry," _Harry paused, before answering, "_Tell him that I have gone away. But I promise to return."_

_"I cannot allow you to leave, Prince," _Nagini hissed, her eyes hardening with steel. "_You must not leave the grounds."_

_"Try and stop me," _Harry challenged, and in the brief moment when Harry's wand lit up, Nagini saw that his eyes were a brilliant green; filled with pain and confusion, but not a dark merciless black.

She scrambled for words, but before she could do anything, Harry spoke for one last time, _"Is father really not here?"_

Nagini paused for a moment, before replying dutifully, "_No. He is away."_

Harry nodded once before letting out a burst of raw magic, which wound itself immediately around Nagini, restricting her movement. She hissed angrily, thrashing, her movements wild, but to no avail. When she finally looked up from her prison cage, Harry had already gone.

* * *

_Hogwarts_

"Can you explain it already?"

Damien was panting by the time he and Draco had fled from Dumbledore's office, right into an empty classroom, his Invisibility Cloak slipping; Draco's Disillusionment Charm fading. Upon approaching the first empty classroom they saw, Draco immediately shoved Damien in before himself, then slammed the door shut. Without pausing even for breath, Draco weaved up protection charms and locked the door quickly with a few complicated waves from his wand.

Draco turned to face the impatient youngest Potter, not bothering to keep the truth away any longer. "I was correct," Malfoy said at last, his tone betraying hints of triumph. "We have confirmed one thing- Harry broke through the wards and lost his magic on purpose."

Damien said nothing; though many emotions were chasing across his hardened features. Most of them screaming in denial that Harry wouldn't be so stupid. For a wizard as powerful as Harry, to lose one's magic would be as good as losing one's life.

"Here's what I guess happened on the night Harry was supposedly captured and killed months ago," Draco continued, speaking in a low voice as he began to pace the room. "He was tortured by The Dark Lord's Death- Eaters until it was time for them to leave and prepare for the Hogsmeade raid. The Dark Lord ordered all of them to leave then. After that, he healed Harry quietly and started to meddle with Harry's memories, blanking out few parts and leaving the parts where he hated the Potters intact.

"However, on that very same night, Harry turned seventeen, when Voldemort was at Hogsmeade, waving the fake corpse of Harry Potter around," Draco continued, Damien remaining in stunned silence, "Harry managed to fight off the memory charm for a moment, as such complex charms takes time to meld across the mind. At the same time, as you mentioned- your snowy owl turned up obligingly for Harry. Harry sends his last letters to you as well as Dumbledore. He also encloses the plans of his building the blood wards to the Headmaster, obviously counting on Dumbledore to reopen Hogwarts and keep the students safe."

"But Harry knew that Voldemort would attack Hogwarts..." Damien intervened, fear suddenly creeping into his voice as he contemplated what could have happened.

"That's what I thought," Draco nodded in confirmation. "Harry must have guessed that Voldemort had further plans for him, when he woke up healed and well once more. He feared what his father would have him do, and he must have been prevented from escaping the manor by some means, so he took measures to ensure that- he would not harm those he cared about when he once more, became The Dark Lord's mindless puppet."

Damien's mind was reeling from this information; he never realized that Draco had deliberately used the Dark Lord's name. "So what you're saying is that Harry guessed that Voldemort would attack Hogwarts? That's why he sent his Blood Wards plans to Professor Dumbledore. And he purposely left a modified version of his plans behind for himself..."

The youngest Potter trailed off, leaving Draco to complete his theory. "And it is my guess that in those modified plans, it is stated that no harm would befall on those strong enough to force their way through the blood wards by raw magic; whereas the truth is otherwise."

Damien sat back, his eyes unfocused. "Merlin..." he muttered. "If what we guess is true, then Harry is as good as... dead."

"Again," supplied Draco, grimly.

xXx

Damien had seemingly gained a new found freedom from their discovery about Hedwig being able to breach the Hogwarts blood wards by wearing the Layhoo Jisteen, as now he would be able to send letters as he pleased, without the fuss of being interogated by the professors, and his letter content privacy invaded. Besides everything hectic and surreal that had been going on around Hogwarts, a part of him was extremely worried and anxious for news from home; he had not heard from his parents ever since he boarded the Hogwarts Express. And knowing his father, who was still coping from losing Harry once more, he was actually just as concerned as his mother was; his father was still an active member of the Order, and goodness knows he tended to act recklessly.

The youngest Potter felt, inevitably, suffocated and frustrated being cooped up at Hogwarts, the ultimate safe haven, without even knowing what was going on in the world. Voldemort had stormed close to Hogwarts that day, intending to snatch Harry back, and the Dark Lord most probably would have attacked the wizarding school had Harry not returned to him swiftly.

Briefly, Damien wondered why the Dark Lord had not decided to attack Hogwarts yet. Was his army not yet ready? Or had he not found a way around the wards yet? Why did he choose to snatch Harry back on that particular day, just as Harry's identity to him was revealed? Were there any other attacks on other places in the wizarding world as well?

"This is not the wisest of decisions, Potter," Draco drawled, leaning against the entrance of the Owlery as Damien tied the parchment to Hedwig's offered leg and began to undo the Layhoo Jisteen around his neck.

"If you were me, you'd probably do the same," Damien shot back, ignoring the warning.

"No I wouldn't," Draco said flatly. "Mainly because I have no family that I care enough about to write to. And even so, I wouldn't risk so much."

Damien sent Hedwig off with a last pat before turning around to face Draco. "It was only a letter to my parents," he argued, "What's more, I specifically told them not to tell Professor Dumbledore about it. No harm done."

Draco shrugged. "Suit yourself."

They stared into the night in silence after that, Draco stepping forwards to lean out of the ornate windows, Damien watching Hedwig's white feathers disappear into the dark.

"We're supposed to be planning," Damien spoke up at last, after a long silence.

"You mean _I'm _supposed to be planning," Draco corrected. "Since when do you actually plan before you act?"

"Oh I don't know, just an hour ago, maybe?"

"Since I came along," Draco deadpanned with a smirk. Damien growled.

"You're horribly inflated."

Draco raised an eyebrow. "I would have you know, I'm considered thin for my age. Which is more than can be said for you."

"I mean, your ego is," Damien remedied. "Besides... that wasn't the main point."

"I just missed it. Must have picked up on your bad habits."

"Like sneaking out of the dorm past curfew?"

"Perhaps. Besides, it's only five minutes past curfew, hardly record breaking, is it?"

"No," Damien agreed, not even sure why he was holding such a pointless conversation with a Malfoy no less. "My record was actually an entire night spent in detention but that hardly counts..." he trailed off as he watched a speck of white grow steadily larger from the distance.

"That was fast," Draco remarked, watching as Hedwig soar into view, her white feathers spread out wide as she glided over towards where Damien was standing.

"It's not possible, Potter Manor is far away from here," Damien said, more to himself as Hedwig came nearer. He reached out a hand for her to perch on as she arrived, hooting repeatedly, as if trying to convey an urgent message.

"Hey! You never delivered the letter!" Damien said indignantly, immediately finding the parchment he'd tied to Hedwig's leg, addressed to his parents. Hedwig merely ruffled her feathers and held up another leg, though she did look a tad sulky.

What Damien saw made his heart freeze, his legs rooting him to the spot.

"What happened?" Draco asked.

Damien did not reply; he merely unattached the singed piece of parchment from Hedwig's leg and turned it over for Draco to see.

It contained the easily distinguishable messy scrawl of one Harry Potter.

_To Damien Potter_

_Meet me at the edge of the wards near the Quidditch pitch as soon as possible. I promise you no harm. Come alone._

For a moment, there was complete and utter silence as Damien contemplated the letter, Draco's unhelpful piercing gaze resting heavily on him. Eventually, the youngest Potter lit his wand and ignited the piece of parchment with a simple charm. Draco watched as the singed parchment burnt slowly into ashes and scattered quickly under the night breeze.

"You're not going," Draco said, looking at Damien straight in the eye.

The youngest Potter barely refrained from an eye roll. "Yes, and I love poetry."

Draco stared.

"It was supposed to be rhetorical," Damien sighed.

"You cannot be serious," Draco sounded aghast. "Of all the silliest tricks in the world, I should have known you'd fall for the simplest one of all. Imagine, any Death- Eater who wants your head should have the easiest job in the world. All they need to do is send a note to Potter and tell him to come alone. Hell, they even get to determine the site you'll be kidnapped from!"

"This is no Death- Eater trick," Damien shot back irritably, "Surely you can see this is Harry's handwriting!"

"Harry is supposed to be incapacitated," Draco pointed out. "He was completely drained of magic after breaking out from the blood wards."

"Well, Harry was always exceptional," Damien said defensively, "Besides, only Harry can summon Hedwig."

"Which makes everything a whole lot better?" Draco questioned, raising an eyebrow. "Might I remind you that Harry is now completely brainwashed, and his capabilities, even if he is magically drained, far exceed a formidable Death- Eater?"

"I know-"

"Which makes everything worse," Draco finished flatly.

"No, just shut up about that," snapped the younger wizard, annoyance flaring up once again. "Harry wouldn't have sent this to me without reason. And if you're thinking that he still means to kidnap me-" Damien said warningly, "- Harry, brainwashed or not, would never stoop to such a low trick. So that is irrelevant."

As much as Draco wanted to argue, part of him knew that the last part was true. "Fine, see if I care," he bit out at last, for a brief moment worrying if that statement was true- then he turned away.

Damien watched as Draco disappeared out of the door of the Owlery, with a small pang of guilt, which was both surprising and extremely disturbing. This had nothing to do with Malfoy anyway! Harry was his brother, and he was determined to see that those memories returned their rightful owner. Harry would never be Voldemort's mindless puppet, ever again!

With that thought, Damien settled down in a corner to wait, counting down the next fifteen minutes until he could start planning on sneaking out into the castle grounds.

xXx

Since Damien already had his Invisibility Cloak with him, he had no need of returning to his dormitory to retrieve it. However, there was still the issue of the Marauder's Map, which Damien was determined to take to Harry's face later when he saw him. Sure, they had more important things to discuss, and Damien was extremely anxious if he could somehow persuade Harry to see the truth, but that didn't mean that the Map did not matter. It belonged to the Marauders, and Damien had been entrusted with it to keep the Map safe.

Damien had sent off Hedwig with a reply that he would be there if Harry was alone, too. A part of him didn't want to seem too agreeable, as though he were needy. And Damien definitely did not want to come face to face to Voldemort or his Death- Eaters, even if they promised him no harm. It would also make the process of revealing the truth to Harry even more difficult.

As the clock hand approached a quarter to twelve, Damien couldn't help but wonder what had inspired Harry to suddenly return to Hogwarts, and request to meet him no less. Sure, it could be a trap- doubtless Harry knew about the blood wards and he _might _have guessed that Damien was one of the Secret Keepers- but that couldn't be the point, because Harry had plenty of opportunities to harm him during their stay at Hogwarts, especially when the youngest Potter was grievously injured as he pursued his elder brother. But this was still _Harry, _and despite the fact that his ribs still felt a bit sore, a larger part of him refused to be convinced that Harry would somehow harm him, intentionally.

After loitering around the Owlery for a few more minutes, and not seeing any sign of Hedwig returning from Potter Manor, Damien pulled out his Invisibility Cloak and wrapped himself tightly in it before stepping out cautiously.

The corridor was dark and empty, and the carpet muffled any sounds his footsteps might have made. It was one of the few times that Damien had to depend solely on his senses to detect whether there was anyone heading his way, and not for the last time, Damien cursed Harry for taking the Marauder's Map. It might not be his fault that he was brainwashed, but it certainly was Kit Mason's fault Damien lost James' prized possession.

After hurrying down staircases and eerily silent corridors for a full five minutes, and narrowly escaping Mrs. Norris and Filch on the second floor corridor- Damien finally stepped out into the open air. The night breeze was cool and refreshing, and since Quidditch tryouts weren't due until the day after tomorrow- Ginny's previously scheduled tryouts were cancelled because Damien had to prepare for the Duelling Club- the youngest Potter had not had the chance to enjoy the evening breeze for a long time. There were only few moments when they were either hurrying to or from Herbology and Care for Magical Creatures.

Behind him, Damien heard the slow chime of the clock, and counting in his heart- he knew it was twelve o' clock, midnight. Quickly, he hastened towards the Quidditch pitch, trusting the wind and muddy ground to mask his hurried footsteps.

He reached the pitch in a record of three minutes, panting slightly. Squinting against the darkness, Damien looked hard between the trees, at the edge of the forest where Harry had promised he would be, but saw nothing.

Deciding that he needed to be the first to reveal himself, or they would likely just stand there, invisible, on either side of the barrier throughout the night- Damien decided to take the risk. With a fluid motion, he swept off the Invisibility Cloak and stowed it away in his thick jacket pocket.

Immediately, the cold wind began to buffer him in all directions, freezing him to the bone. It was after all, late autumn, and he did not think of bringing an extra wrapper when he and Draco broke into Professor Dumbledore's office.

However, there was not much time to think of anything else, for at that precise moment, something shifted in the shadows- and when Damien looked up, he found himself face- to- face with Kit Mason.

"You're still wearing the stupid glamour," was the first thing Damien thought of saying, with a scowl. Kit looked a tad surprised, before he nodded slightly.

"It's a precaution," he explained, "just in case someone invades your mind."

"Who?" Damien asked, noting how weary the other looked, despite the glamour, and secretly wishing he could see his brother's face instead of Kit's.

Kit, or Harry, snorted. "You still need to ask?"

Damien did not reply, but when Harry finally met his eyes again, the familiar goofy grin was on Damien's face once more, and it was a tad alarming and irritating for the latter to witness.

"What now?" Harry snapped. "I haven't got all night, so drop that expression."

"Nothing," Damien said truthfully. "Just that you're... not dead. So yeah, that's good. I suppose."

Harry stared. Then, upon deciding he did not have the time to decipher how the Gryffindor's mind worked, he began, "You must be wondering why I suddenly asked you to meet me here tonight. Frankly, I'm surprised that you agreed quickly-"

"To be truthful I wasn't wondering at all, but do continue," Damien couldn't help but interject, the bubbly happy feeling in his chest rising. He had been anticipated this moment, dreamt of it for so long- and though these were hardly the circumstances he imagined when he dreamt his brother had come back to life- it was as surreal as his dream. And Harry could stop glaring at him, because he really couldn't help that grin.

Harry was looking at him incredulously. "You have no reason whatsoever to trust me, yet you turned up here alone in the middle of midnight anyway, and you never even wondered why I asked you to meet me at all. That sounds extremely foolish, even for a Gryffindor."

"Like you?" Damien smiled cheekily, before he sobered. "Actually, Harry- I need to talk to you as well. There are many things I need to tell you- and they might be a bit hard to believe- but I'm willing to take whatever oath or Veritaserum it is to guarantee you that I speak the truh," he gabbled in a rush.

Harry seemed to have understood his sentence, for a slight frown appeared on his face. "I'm not here to do you a favor, Potter," he said at last, demeanor suddenly a shade colder, "but I might return it if you answer my questions truthfully."

"Return the favor?" Damien echoed, confused. "I don't need you to return any favor, Harry. All I ask is for you to listen to what I have to say after this. I'll answer your questions anyway... unless they involve the destruction of my friends or family or the Order... or something," he finished lamely, discovering belatedly the many loopholes in his promise.

"You might change your mind on that," Harry said in a low voice, dangerous, before abruptly switching back to what Damien called the 'serious no- nonsense mode'. "First, do I have your word that you will speak only of the truth? You may withhold information you do not wish to discuss, but you cannot lie."

Damien nodded immediately, sealing the subtle sparks Harry had directed with his wand, hence sealing the oath as well. Briefly Harry was dismayed; the Gryffindor was even more foolish than he had thought, to accept a stranger's oath so quickly without even considering the loopholes!- but he said nothing.

When the vow was complete, Harry took a deep breath and asked, "Was there a forest anywhere near Godric's Hollow?"

xXx

Damien was extremely surprised when he heard Harry's first question.

"Forest?" he echoed. "Um, no. At least, nowhere near where we stayed. The nearest one was around three miles away. I suppose there could have been a few decades ago... but the village has expanded until the edge of the forest was rather far away from the centre. Which is where we lived."

Harry nodded, as though understanding, though Damien noticed that those blue eyes were beginning to show signs of emerald once more.

"You say that I was never placed under the Imperius Curse, by Dumbledore," Harry continued, beginning to pace the front of the wards. "And you claim that Bellatrix did not die by the hands of the Order the day I was captured."

"Yes," Damien said, even as a sharp gust of cold wind got him, and his teeth began to chatter. "I swear, those were just... lies." He paused at Harry's murderous expression, but immediately his tone hardened with steel. "You know I'm telling the truth, Harry- I cannot lie under this oath. Why do you think I accepted this so readily?"

Harry did not reply, so Damien continued, "Bellatrix never died that day, in fact- she wasn't even there. It was my uncle Sirius pretending to be her all the while; the Order laid a false trap for you, and you alone were caught. Nobody even realized who you were until my dad took off your mask when he brought you back. Even so, he was so disbelieving he did a blood test."

"I bet he would be," Harry muttered darkly, his eyes still not on Damien.

Damien felt like swearing; this was harder than he had thought it would be. "Merlin Harry! Don't you see that you were never placed under the Imperius Curse for even one second! Even if you don't believe me, your capabilities should more than convince-"

"Quiet," Harry hissed, but Damien paid him no heed- not until Harry said in a loud whisper, "Shut up! Someone's coming!"

Damien immediately fell silent and fumbled to wrap himself in the Invisibility Cloak once more. But he refused to disappear out of sight yet.

"Swear to me that you won't disappear off yet," Damien said urgently, "I haven't finished-"

"Keep quiet," Harry growled, frowning in concentration. The wind was picking up, bringing in droplets of rain, but Harry could sense muffled footsteps, and most importantly- a magical aura heading his way. His father had trained him to pick up on any approach of a wizard, and he could sense that there was one drawing near to where they were standing. The magical signature given off was, however, not very clear- and one could never tell exactly how many wizards or witches were heading their way. It depended on the age and power said magical being held.

"Just promise me!" Damien snapped back, impatiently. "Be fair, alright! I agreed to _your _terms within seconds of hearing it!"

"Fine, I'll stay for the moment," Harry ground out, reminding Damien idly of the times he had to argue so much with his elder brother just for Harry to stay a little longer at Potter Manor, or even the Burrow. "Now disappear and _stay quiet _until I say it's safe."

Well, that definitely sounded familiar.

Damien half- scowled before the Cloak fell over him and he vanished from sight. Harry immediately disappeared as well, into the shadows, under his Disillusionment Charm.

Minutes ticked by slowly, and Harry began to feel increasingly anxious- judging by the magical signature given off, Harry guessed that it was a witch or wizard heading their way; but as he sensed the aura drawing nearer, almost eight metres away even- he could see nothing. The heavy wind and autumn rain did nothing to improve his vision, and he could barely see through a Disillusionment Charm in this state.

Then abruptly, there was a yelp from where Damien was standing a minute ago. With narrowed eyes, Harry watched something red flash out of the corner of his eye, before it disappeared altogether.

There was someone else standing there.

It wasn't easy spotting the eavesdropper, but it was considerably less impossible a task when Harry knew where to look. He thought he detected a faint shimmer as the distinct shape of a boy sprinted across the Quidditch pitch, and disappeared quickly into the rain.

At the same time, Harry could feel the magical signature pause, before leaving them further and further away, until he could no longer sense any outsider's presence. For safety reasons, Harry decided to wait a good three more minutes all the same. He stood there, crouching, until he heard shuffling of feet.

"Keep quiet, Potter," he said in an undertone. "Not yet."

But Damien either did not hear him or decided to ignore his warnings anyway. The next thing he knew, something was prodding his cheekbone and he automatically lashed out, grabbing onto the something which felt like a finger wrapped in something slippery.

The Cloak fell off, revealing Damien standing outside the barriers of Hogwarts.

"What in the name of Salazar do you think you're doing!" Harry hissed, banishing his own Disillusionment charm. "Get back inside!"

Damien merely shook his head, urgently, before he started to run into the woods.

xXx

The boy had gone completely nutters. Completely and utterly and extremely nutters.

First off, he wasn't wearing anything warm, and he could see that Damien's steps were becoming increasingly shaky. The forest brought them a little cover from the pelting rain, but that wasn't enough to keep the droplets at bay. Soon, Harry found himself drenched to the skin, still running after a surprisingly agile but idiotic Gryffindor. Which also happened to be is biological brother. Given his luck, he wasn't really surprised at this unfortunate turn of events.

It was difficult running through mud and twigs, and despite his reassuring Lucius otherwise, Harry was still far from being fully recovered- and he definitely was not up to running more than a hundred metres as of yet. He soon felt his energy draining away rapidly, much like when he lost his magic to the blood wards- which was a foreign feeling. He despised it. In that moment, he felt weak- and the worst thing was _Potter_ beat him at running.

It was, at least, fortunate that Damien chose that moment to stop running, and Harry discarded his Disillusionment Charm completely to save energy for his return journey and glamour. His magic was already beginning to wane.

"What- was the meaning of that?" Harry demanded, hating the way he had to pause for breath after the first word.

If Damien noticed he didn't comment; the Gryffindor was in worse state than he was. In fact, Damien was chattering all over, his knees shaking slightly from the cold, but of course despite all that, his lips would still be pulled into that stupid grin of his.

"There was someone following me, I think," he said, no longer bothering to whisper- they were well into the forest. "so I thought it would be better to shake off their trail this way. Welcome to my favorite picnic spot."

"This place is out of bounds," Harry noted, taking in the glittering lake that lay ahead of them, obscured by a few dark and mangly trees before them.

"Which is why it is my favorite," Damien pointed out with a grin. "Me and Ron used to come here almost every weekend, before I could go to Hogsmeade with him- that is."

Harry raised an eyebrow at this but offered no opinion. After pausing for a while, he sank into the non- muddy patch of ground beside Damien, wondering how the night was spinning off into such a bizarre reality. Running away from Hogwarts with Potter into the woods for secret discussions. Perfect.

Damien attempted to cast a warming charm on his clothes, but instantly he began to yelp in panic; Harry guessed that he might have accidentally heated the water droplets clinging onto him instead. Hiding a smile, Harry did not look up as he cast a drying charm as well as the correct warming charm on Damien, causing the youngest Potter to pause and offer him a sheepish grin. "Thanks."

The night was cold, and drizzly, with no stars in sight. There was a faint blur of a crescent in the distance, but that was the most they could make of the moon. Lake water lapped quietly behind them, against the rocks, and in that area secluded by the waters and the trees, it felt as though the forest was just as magical as Hogwarts was; the glittering lake could have been illuminated by the faint light of the moon. The wizarding school was a magnificent castle in the distance, across the forest and the water, almost unreal- the school Harry never got to truly attend, be it last year or this.

They sat down, leaning against the rocks in silence, watching the rain fall.

Damien Potter was one of the Secret Keepers of Hogwarts, there was no denying it now. Somehow, Harry had wished differently; it was easier to win a game of strategies, than to succeed by betraying another's trust. But Damien had so obligingly and blindly trusted Harry, or Kit Mason- Harry wasn't sure which personality held more influence over the younger boy- but either way the results were the same. Damien had made the choice to trust Harry explicitly, and for that he might have to pay the price. Voldemort, after all, needed to place one of the Secret Keepers under the Imperius Curse, and Damien was, ultimately, the best candidate...

But that was for another day, when his father returned to the Manor, when he had his questions answered. Right now, maybe for once in his life, he could sit back, and wish the moment would last.

"I know you have plenty of questions," Damien began, suddenly. "And I'm actually quite glad to know that you have so many questions."

There was a pause in which Damien grimaced, and Harry's silence was the perfect confirmation of how bad a start that was.

"Anyway," Damien coughed, a tad awkwardly, "I think it'd be best if you heard me out. The entire story. It'll probably answer most of your questions, anyway."

But Harry shook his head, slowly. "I'm only hearing the full story from my father, nobody else."

Damien paused slightly at the 'father' reference, remembering painfully how, once upon a time, Harry would have referred to James as 'dad' unconsciously. Would they need to build that bridge all over again?

"I'm just asking you to listen," Damien tried, looking at Harry desperately, "You don't need to believe me fully- just take my words into consideration."

"You told me that my father lied to me," Harry replied evenly, returning the gaze. "How can the same not be spoken for yourself?"

"Dad would never lie to me about things like this," Damien said firmly, but Harry deadpanned, "Dumbledore."

The youngest Potter paused. "While it is true that I heard part of the story from Dumbledore," he began, and Harry raised an eyebrow unhelpfully- "I witnessed most of the things myself. I'd let you see the memories if only I knew how to."

But still Harry stubbornly refused to listen. "I will only listen to your part of the story after I've heard from my father," he said, though his tone was soft. "I don't expect you to understand this. But I only came here to find out three things. First, Bellatrix's death. Secondly, my supposedly being Imperiused by Dumbledore. Thirdly, about the real Godric's Hollow." All the stories he'd already heard from his father, first.

Briefly, Damien was surprised- hadn't Harry already known what he had to about the first two points, when he drugged Damien in the Room of Requirement? But Damien did not voice any of that; he merely lunged into his tale, afraid that Harry might turn him away if he argued. It was but a small thing, but this was the first time in long months he got the chance to speak to his brother. When he had put Harry's remaining belongings back into the boxes, and cleared away Harry's room; laid that white rose across the polished wood; there hadn't been a more bitter ache, of longing and craving for his eldest brother to step into his life once more, just as abruptly as he had stepped into it. He never once imagined that Harry would return, nor did he ever anticipate that it was another cruel reversal of fate, that Harry had once more lost his memories to Voldemort's manipulations, and succumbed to being his puppet once more.

So he began; talking about the old Godric's Hollow he'd lived in. At first he only mentioned the landscape, the facts that he thought Harry would be interested in- but he couldn't be blamed for adding a few of his childhood memories in, could he? It just seemed so cruel to be sharing with his brother the beautiful place he'd be brought up in, when all Harry could remember of it was nightmares.

He hesitantly added the part where he snuck out on James' Nimbus once, before he'd even entered Hogwarts- and when James stormed in, face red, and noticed him flying up high in the sky, his heart was iced with fear... but then his dad, as awesome as he was, started laughing, laughing so hard till Damien swore he cried. When Harry looked briefly surprised at this, and didn't tell Damien to shut up and stick to the point, he grew more confident. He told Harry how Lily and James had surprised him during his twelfth birthday, by telling him to close his eyes and prepare for Side- long Apparition, when suddenly he was shoved onto something, and in his struggles to remove James' blindfold, he kicked off into an amazing height on his first broom, a Nimbus Two Thousand.

Damien felt that it was only fair if he cleared Sirius' name as well, so he added in a few more stories while describing Godric Hollow's kitchen- when he and Uncle Sirius decided to bake Lily's favorite apple pie for her birthday. James was in charge of preparing the ice cream, and, as a result of Sirius' greediness and carelessness, Sirius upended half the salt shaker over the beautifully baked pie. There was a thick layer of salty crust over it, and Damien did not even realize it. Damien had only been seven years old at that time, so Lily felt inclined not to hurt Damien's feelings and pretended the pie was delicious. It was probably to her sinking heart and rising horror when Damien happily pushed the entire pie towards her and urged her to eat up. Damien swore that it was a mistake, and he never knew it was salty until he picked some 'sugar' off the table and licked it- but Sirius nearly died of laughing that night.

The mood sobered when Damien tried explaining Bellatrix's supposed death, and when Harry had been captured then sent to Hogwarts.

"Do you remember when I first snuck into your room to see you?" the youngest Potter asked, grinning faintly at the memory, "you grew quite annoyed with me and even threw me out of your room. But I promptly walked back in because you never said anything about coming back in again."

Harry hid a smile at that. "Sounds probable," was all he said, but Damien could tell that he was confused; he had no such memory of his past year.

Throughout Damien's many illustrated stories, Harry rarely offered any opinions; and confused, Damien just continued to talk and talk to wear himself out, inserting funny adjectives and making faces only to draw the ghost of a smile, or the glint of amusement in Harry's now emerald eyes. Damien, however, did not broach the topic of Voldemort's truthfulness or Harry's childhood more than Harry allowed, after Harry abruptly told him to forget it, and after he made Harry promise that Harry would get to the bottom of the mystery. Harry, much to Damien's surprise, had agreed.

It was through part of his animated story- telling did Damien realize that Harry hadn't actually came to find out about those three questions of his, only, or he wouldn't be sitting here quietly beside Damien, watching the ebb of the lake tide, catching the faint drizzle droplets idly as he listened. Sometimes, when he finished a tale and silence fell, there was a quiet fear, sadness- or perhaps even pain that flashed across Harry's eyes so fast Damien could barely catch, that scared the youngest Potter- so he merely made the simplest decision to never stop talking.

He wasn't sure what Harry had come for, and Damien suspected that Harry knew more than he was letting on; he had discovered more of Voldemort's loopholes and secrets that did not add up to Damien's story. But a part of Damien feared, and knew, that if he pressed for answers, Harry could just walk away easily and never return, so he did not dare to. Perhaps Harry had felt alone and needed company? Or more probably, he needed a distraction, so he came to listen to Damien's chatters... like he would have done a months ago.

Deep inside him, Damien felt a warm yet selfish glow that Harry had flew to find him first, and not anyone else, and he couldn't help but feel immensely glad that he had accepted Harry's proposal to meet at the edge of the barriers at once. For that moment, the rest of the world- Order of the Phoenix and Voldemort could stew for all he cared, he just wanted to be selfish this once and let that moment last.

It must have been the twentieth story Damien was through, and he had no idea how late it was into the night by now- not that he cared, but the worst thing was that a sneeze was slowly brewing. He had a bad feeling that Harry would reprimand him if he let it past, so he tried to ignore it but no amount of will could throw one off.

Finally, with a magnified three- fold 'ATCHOO!' Damien sneezed, and lo and behold, he was not disappointed. Harry's eyes immediately snapped back to him, and his elder brother stood up decisively.

"It's getting quite late," Harry said quietly, even as he seized Damien's arm and half- dragged his sulking younger brother back from where they came from. "You have to go back."

"But I haven't even finished my story yet!" said Damien indignantly, the little voice in his head whispering his fears, that if he let go, Harry would never return.

"Truth to be told I wasn't really listening, so that's irrelevant," Harry said firmly.

"Ouch," Damien shot back. "That's mean."

When Harry showed no sign of relenting, the youngest Potter eventually found himself half- dragged by his elder brother back to Hogwarts. "You really remind me of mum," Damien continued to whine stubbornly by Harry's ear, "A single cough or sneeze before a Diagon Alley visit and I don't get a double scoop ice cream."

"I don't have a double scoop ice cream to offer anyway," Harry said wryly, still getting a tight grip over the protesting Damien.

They reached the edge of the barriers a little too quickly, and Damien was left clinging desperately to half- made up excuses of not returning to the castle. By the time Harry shoved him towards the barriers, Damien was almost desperate enough to suggest Harry bring Damien with him wherever he went, forget him not wanting to seem horribly clingy.

"Go back in," Harry said, for some reason not looking at Damien.

The Gryffindor stubbornly stood his ground. "Why exactly did you come here tonight?"

Harry looked back at him to meet his gaze, smiling, but it was tinged with bitterness. "Perhaps I can answer you this one truthfully," he said, "I don't know."

Damien frowned, but he didn't walk towards Hogwarts, merely stopping by the edge of the barriers, allowing the drizzle to fall around him, feeling the droplets of water to slide down his face, soaking once more into his attire. "I will see you again, right?" he asked softly, his eyes for a moment not daring to meet Harry's, for fear of being turned away.

"Probably," Harry agreed, "but by then, you might not recognize me anymore."

"Don't worry, I'm always the first to spot you," Damien offered a smile.

Harry returned it, one side of his mouth curling upwards, before he gestured for Damien to return. "It's nearing four in the morning, you need your sleep."

"I would have stayed until dawn and I wouldn't be tired," Damien replied with a roll of his eyes. "You underestimate my energy levels."

"You can stop delaying the inevitable and turn back," Harry said, folding his arms in a suddenly rather older brother fashion.

"What are you doing here then?" Damien countered, raising an eyebrow challengingly.

"Making sure you walk back to the castle," Harry deadpanned.

"You won't be able to see me anyway," Damien pointed out, as he wrapped himself once more with the Invisibility Cloak. Then, as if to prove his point even though Harry wouldn't see him, he pretended to shuffle off, but then stood his spot and looked back at Harry, waiting to see his brother leave first.

Harry on his part, smiled, and barely above the whisper of the wind, Damien heard, "Thank you anyway, Damy."

And Damien had to blink back sudden tears, as he watched the figure of his elder brother turn round and walk away alone, into the forest. A minute later under the chilling rain, there was nothing else to keep Damien warm, but for the lasting charm around his clothes.

It kept him warm throughout the night.

**A/N: Sorry for the long wait, I was so busy with my competition preparations! I'm going into the final round this saturday, I'm rather nervous -.- . The winner's team gets to walk away with RM3000! Which can almost buy you a MacBook Pro, if you don't know about the conversion. **

**Anyway this is a chapter dedicated mostly to Harry and Damien, I just got inspired and I really like writing about them both; they are my favorite characters after all! Cheers to Kurinoone for inventing Damien, he's awesome!**

**This story should almost be ending, I'm anticipating 30 chapters at most. I've never finished writing a story before, so I'm excited to write the ending as well! :)**

**Rating system as usual:**

**':D' for amazing**

**X for terrible**

**O for okay.**


	24. Chapter 24: Double- Edged Blade

**The Second Chance**

DISCLAIMER: I do not own anything of Harry Potter. This story is inspired by Kurinoone's awesome story 'The Darkness Within', which was inspired by Project Dark Overlord's wonderful fic- 'A Shattered Prophesy'.

**Thanks so much for all your amazing reviews, I was really encouraged by all of your comments and it's thanks to you guys I ever got this far in fanfiction net... I've never had a story with this many chapters, nor nearing 500 reviews! I'm halfway to 1000 :O! Though I know I'll never reach that far, as this story is already ending. So thank you so much to **_PatronusCharms, riderfan, Jess, Phoenixx Rising, Sorrel SilverLeaf, rose, Caroline, Insanity and Vanity, ScarletHeart5, G, coolchickdiv, Oirasse, Ash-Bookworm 113, Nyra Lily Potter, v1cky84, LoveYourStory, LadyGryffin17, Kurinoone, Pryanish Potter (my first reviewer for C22!) and 5 guests. _

**Now on with the story:**

* * *

**Chapter 24: Double- Edged Blade**

**Previous day, before Harry left for Hogwarts:**

Harry slammed the trapdoor shut, his breathing erratic, emerald eyes wide and roving as though scanning for an invisible threat. His frenzied mind was a cloud of worry and anxiety, and both his hands were shaking. He laid a palm flat on the trapdoor, the carving of a snake on the bronze metal glowing briefly.

"Close," he hissed, but by the harsh whisper that left his throat, it sounded more like a snarl.

For a few moments he crouched there, unmoving, a hand clamped onto his lightning bolt scar carved into the middle of his forehead. Blood was seeping through his fingers despite his best efforts to stem the flow, and Harry could do no more but clench his jaw in obvious effort to contain the pain. A wandless cleaning charm was cast, and all blood was siphoned off his face, but more kept coming. Barely holding back a swear, Harry stood up and turned to move away, before he suddenly stopped short.

A tall man with blonde hair was standing some distance behind him. Though he had not drawn his wand, the man's eyes were glued to the now uncovered trapdoor with thinly veiled horror and uncertainty.

Harry barely paused for a moment, before he flicked the loose floorboard back in place carelessly, resealing it with his own magic. The other wizard narrowed his eyes at this.

"I see that you too, know of the secret," Harry said, his tone emotionless as he stood facing front, not looking at the man behind him.

The man, Lucius, blanched, but covered it up with an effort. "I don't know what you mean, Prince. The Dark Lord has told me to guard the entrance once, but I've never been down before."

Harry did not reply to that. "How did you know where I was?" he questioned, "Why have you not returned? It is late night."

Lucius had no reply for that, except for the slight tensing around his shoulders. Harry narrowed his eyes, brilliant green darting to the man's far from relaxed composure, pain hidden in the lines of his expressionless face, the sweat on his brow, the odd hunch of his left shoulder. The steady trickle of red down his left finger he tried to hide. The darkening of his black robes around his left forearm. Harry's eyes hardened.

"Restrictions," he spat, his green eyes narrowed in anger. "First with pain, now with this."

"Harry..." Lucius tried, his unaffected facade forgotten. "The Dark Lord only did so to prevent you from getting hurt. It's not what you think..."

"So you can guess my thoughts, Lucius?" Harry fired, an odd glint in his eye. "How very astute of you. Then again, with so many clues lining my way, presenting the bloody facts to my very face-!" The first hint of black tinted those emerald orbs, and Lucius backed away a step, "I was completely blinded."

"The Dark Lord cares about you, Harry," the elder wizard spoke, his grey eyes unflinching nevertheless.

"Care?" A laugh emitted from the other's mouth, loud, howling and mirthless, which seemed to even startle himself. "I don't who he cared for, or if he ever did, but it was never me." Emotions, fiery and fast flashed across Harry's features, too fast for Lucius to catch. "I've been a puppet on a string. Dancing to his tune all this while."

"You really think you have discovered the truth?" Lucius hissed, a threatening edge to his voice that had never appeared in his encounters with Harry- "You know nothing of the Dark Lord's intentions and ways! It is not up to you to question him. You spoke of honour, yet you judge based on one- sided assumptions!"

Harry's gaze darkened once more, but something akin to curiousity piqued. He stepped closer, but this time the Death- Eater never backed away, but met his with a matched steely glare. "My assumptions are never one- sided," said Harry, "and as for the complete truth, I have yet to decide in what to believe. But there is one thing I know for certain... he lied to me and used me."

"What do you think is your truth, then?" Lucius countered. "If you think the Dark Lord has manipulated you, give me a reason."

"I do not think so, I know so," Harry corrected lightly, but the tension was still in place. "Though I would understand if you were to deny it... after all, you and I are pretty much alike."

"Harry," said Lucius warningly, but Harry merely quirked a small smile and walked out of the chamber calmly, his footsteps ringing across the hall. But he was not calm, far from it. Harry was an emotional turmoil, his mind spun with too many half- truths and outright lies, too many versions of convincing truths that he could not choose for the life of him what to believe.

"Where are you going?" Lucius said sharply, the last time Harry had snarled a curse at him and fled from the Manor forever still burning in the back of his mind. "You must not leave the Manor, Harry."

Harry paid him no heed. "I dare you try to stop me," the younger wizard replied, with the barest hint of a smirk.

Lucius felt something burn inside him, the image of Draco at the mercy of Voldemort's hands flashed, unbidden into his mind. A jet of red light soared out of his wand, aiming for the Dark Prince before he had completed his line of thought. He was irrational by then, he was panicked.

Harry ducked out of the way at the last possible moment, the jet of red light soaring past his shoulder so close it stung. With narrowed eyes Harry whirled around, Lucius noticed his eyes were a dark forest green.

"Did you play a part in that lesson too, Lucius?" Harry asked softly, swerving around to block the rain of curses Lucius was firing, some even lethal. Cutting hexes rained their blow on the chamber, shattering both mirrors and the floor- to - ceiling windows. Glass glittered on the floor, edges razor sharp, but neither duelist paid them any heed; their eyes fixed on only each other.

Then the first Unforgivable left Lucius' mouth, the Imperio, and Harry's eyes changed. Gone was the brilliant emerald nor darkest of greens; it was now a dull venomous black, his fury drawn where Lucius attempted to control him once more.

"Those who play with fire, get burned!" Harry spat at the man, and Lucius stilled; shocked. That was the only hesitation he needed; Harry drove home his advantage, multi- coloured flashes of light landing heavily on Lucius' glimmering silver body shield. But despite all of it no Unforgivable left Harry's wand. Beneath his cracking shield, Lucius wandlessly summoned the chandelier; a light touch, deciding that the Dark Lord would forgive him for destroying the chamber if he managed to prevent the Dark Prince's escape.

The bulk of gold and crystals sagged down against the ceiling, the chain holding it up creaking audibly. Harry glanced up, eyes flickering upwards for the barest of seconds, but Lucius allowed his shield to dissipate, shooting a Cutting Hex straight at Harry, at the same time the younger wizard fired a curse, a jet of purple light.

Both spells collided in a flurry of light; Lucius saw Harry's eyes widen and the boy swerved out of the way. He barely managed to gasp in surprise when the spell cast by his own wand rebounded, slamming into his chest with a tear of pain. He stumbled backwards, blood gurgling in his throat, barely able to speak, before falling.

Harry stopped, the black in his eyes rapidly disappearing, taking in the injured form of the man he had always regarded something like a second father. He then turned and rapidly walked away, leaving Lucius bleeding on the ground, desperation calling out the boy's name.

His voice was surprisingly strong, and the boy heard him. The Cutting Hex he aimed for Harry had never meant to kill, but wound. The younger of the pair stopped. "I will call for help," he said shortly.

"The Dark Lord..." he began weakly, trying to prop himself up in his pool of blood, already praying for his master's forgiveness, "... he has never left Riddle Manor."

Harry stopped but never turned around.

"James Potter's magic was never enough to begin with," Lucius continued, watching as the boy's back go rigid, "you were slipping away. The Dark Lord was wild, with anger. He sent me away while he performed another ritual... and after you were saved, ordered me to tell you, when you woke, he would be away." He gasped, a sudden pain squeezing his chest, "for three days."

Then Harry turned round one last time, emerald green eyes brighter than before, barely a trace of a tear, but it took all of Harry's resolve to speak, without allowing his voice to crumble; and even so it was after a pregnant pause-

"I will return."

It was but three simple words, but Harry's resolve shattered upon the last word, his voice audibly cracking, as he walked across the chamber and slammed the door shut, leaving Riddle Manor behind for the last time; for when he returned, he knew he would never leave it again.

Lucius comforted himself with the knowledge that, the reason the boy had reacted that way was because Harry knew he could never walk out of the Dark Prince's life so easily anymore, just like he once did the year before.

* * *

**Back to present; directly after meeting Harry...**

Damien stumbled into the castle, water soaking his attire through and through. He resisted the urge to remove his Invisibility Cloak and wring it in the middle of the corridor, but allowed the soggy material to flop over his back as he squelched his way noisily back to the Gryffindor Tower. He was already rounding the last bend when he decided to drop caution; he was merely metres away from the Fat Lady portrait.

"Wonderful cloak you've got there, Potter," a voice suddenly drawled from the shadows, making Damien trip and nearly fall crashing to the carpet. Scowling, Damien ripped off the Cloak and glared into the shadows.

Carelessly, Draco banished the Disillusionment Charm around himself. "Though I must comment it's a little too flashy for a mere boy like you. After all, it _glitters _whenever you walk."

The youngest Potter made a face and began wringing his cloak right there in the middle of the corridor. Water seeped through his fingertips and stained the carpet a darker colour, but he paid no heed to the increasing wetness of the floor.

"Why are you here, by the way?" Damien questioned suspiciously as he continued to struggle with the wet cloak.

"I went for a little walk," Draco replied easily, "much like you."

It took a moment for the truth to sink in.

"It was you?" Damien spluttered, drenched cloak forgotten. "You spied on me! You eavesdropper!"

Draco actually rolled his eyes. "Clearly that was the most obvious conclusion. Unfortunately for your simple deductions, I am a Slytherin, Potter- my intentions are not that blatantly obvious. Try again."

Damien paused. "So... there was another person following me, but that person was not you?" he guessed wildly, before his sleepiness got the better of his temper. "I don't know alright, can't you for once in your life give me a straight answer!"

The taller of the pair looked amused, but relented. "You guessed correctly," Draco said, much to Damien's surprise, "someone else was indeed stalking you. As for me, I was in turn following the stalker. Ironic, no?"

"Someone was stalking me?!" Damien moaned, more of dismay than despair in Draco's opinion. "Am I always that bad? Who?"

"Professor Wynter," Draco replied, watching as the younger wizard's face morphed into a serious expression immediately. In some ways, the youngest Potter really did resemble his elder brother. "He was also in Dumbledore's office when we entered. I believe he was after the same information as we were, that's why you found those notes so easily- right on Dumbledore's table. Wynter must have found it, and hurriedly placed them back when he heard us arriving."

"That still doesn't explain why he decided to follow me," Damien pointed out, hoping this was a huge mistake. How much could their Defense professor be trusted? If he found out about them... how much longer would it take for Dumbledore to find out as well?

"Obviously Wynter heard our conversation before he left," Draco said with exaggerated patience. "He must have decided to keep close tabs on us since we approached such a conclusion... and it would of course be easier for him to place a tracking charm on the more oblivious one of us both. Hence you were stalked as you left the castle."

"He used a tracking charm on me!" Damien said, aghast. "But why didn't the Layhoo Jisteen stop it- oh." He suddenly remembered a similar situation, a year ago, when Hermione had used the tracking charm on him when he had visited Harry at the hotel. Harry had been furious. It seemed like the stone, however powerful, only protected him from potentially harmful spells.

Draco decided to ignore Damien's internal conflicting thoughts. "Anyway, as I happened to be following Wynter, he led me to the spot where you were. I'm sure you noticed that red flash of light when I grabbed you- that was actually the counter- curse."

"Oh," Damien said intelligently, comprehension dawning on his face. "I see now. Um, thanks, maybe."

The youngest Potter pursed him lips and shifted awkwardly at his eloquently expressed gratitude, causing more water droplets to drip all over the floor. Draco raised an eyebrow, relishing the moment. It was a pause later then when Damien frowned and asked, "Wait, wouldn't you removing the charm suddenly cause Professor Wynter to be suspicious?"

"I didn't exactly remove it, I moved it," Draco said nonchalantly.

"Moved it?" Damien repeated, surprised. "Where?"

"Wherever I wanted to lead him to," Draco said airily. "Simple."

"It sounds like a complicated spell," the youngest Potter was still suspicious.

Draco sighed. "It was a only a bit hard." He paused before adding, "like a werewolf is a bit bloodthirsty on a full moon."

Damien scowled. "You think you're really witty, don't you?"

"Thanks for the compliment," Draco said smoothly. "Now I believe it's your turn. What did Harry say?"

Damien groaned. He should have really seen this coming; the Slytherin would never have offered information easily without any form of payback.

This was going to be a really long night.

* * *

However long Damien's night could have been, it was nothing compared to what the inhabitants of the Azkaban prison were facing. It was by now approaching dawn, but there was no way of knowing the time; not as they were sealed off in the darkest dungeon possible in Britain.

Although there was no realizing how much time had passed, Sirius' somewhat battered internal clock told him it was almost two days since James had been returned to his cell, weak and completely devoid of energy. Following that, Sirius noticed that there were more frequent check- ups by the Death- Eaters... at least two of them would pop by each day, carelessly shoving hunks of bread and water through the bars for James, once even a vial of Potion was forced down James' throat much to Sirius' howled protests.

It was then when the Death- Eater that Sirius recognized as Malfoy told him to shut up, as the Dark Lord needed James Potter alive for now- there was no reason for them to kill him in his cell.

That didn't make Sirius feel much better.

For those two days, James was derilous and slipped in and out of consciousness, but those days gave Sirius good. Although he never realized it, he became more alive than he had been previously in the cells, as constant anxiety and determination to help his fallen friend fuelled him each day, and he checked James' condition every few minutes through the bars separating him and his best friend, depending on his somewhat inaccurate internal clock.

Sirius' keen nose picked up the faint Potions scent from James' water, and upon identifying it, Sirius to his immense surprise discovered it to be a Strengthening Potion. He was desperate enough for his friend to wake, even though it meant trusting his arch enemy and also his keen sense of smell, so Sirius made sure all of the liquid went down James' throat each day. He sacrificed his share of the meagre meal to feed up his greatly weakened friend, tore off rags from his robes to bandage James' suspiciously injured palm, but his friend refused to wake.

It was on the third day of this usual frustrating routine for Sirius before James finally came to. It started off as a low groan, before the eldest Potter began to stir slightly against the bars separating the cells confining him and Sirius. Immediately, Sirius was brought out of his reverie, and he scrabbled painfully over to his friend, thankful that the chains around his wrist were long and allowed him to stretch as far as James' cell, though it did cost him a few deep welts on his wrist.

"How is the head?" was the first thing Sirius thought of asking. He had always wondered if Dementors could affect a sleeping person as well.

"In pieces," moaned James as he slowly pushed himself upright. "Wher- am I?"

Sirius couldn't help the huge grin that spread across his face; indeed the expression was so long forgotten his jaw ached at the very effort. "You're in Azkaban!" he informed James brightly.

"Was that supposed to make me feel better?" James wheezed moodily as he propped himself up against one of the slime- coated walls and wincing. His head really hurt.

"Well, at least you have me to keep you company," Sirius reasoned, bright smile still in place, before he sobered. "What exactly happened to you, Prongs? First you're dragged off by Lucius Malfoy, then you're returned to this cell barely conscious with a raging fever and bleeding hand! And the Malfoy git even gave you Strengthening Potions. So tell me, what happened?"

James grimaced and closed his eyes, though it made not much difference in the darkness of the prison cell. "Voldemort wanted to see me... to aid him with something. I was placed under the Imperius Curse."

Sirius was shocked into silence. This was progressing from worse to extremely bad.

"...I don't suppose you have a clue about what you did?" Sirius asked hesitantly.

"No," was James short reply.

"I'm sure he didn't make you kill someone," said Sirius weakly, as though to console his best friend, but of course his clumsy words made Prongs feel all the more worse. "That wouldn't explain the injuries you've got. The wound on your right palm wouldn't stop bleeding until..." Sirius paused. "I lost track of time," he admitted.

James was having a very bad feeling about this. "What kind of dark ritual requires blood?" he questioned, not very certain that he wanted to know the answer. "Just in case."

"I'm not an expert," Sirius said, trying not to feel affronted. He paused for a while, thinking back to their old Auror training days, when they were forced to memorize all sorts of random facts about the symptoms of Dark magic. "I suppose the... making of Inferi requires blood."

Barely had the words left his mouth when Sirius immediately wished that he never said that aloud. "But that wouldn't make sense because Voldemort already has a batch and he doesn't need a new one," he said quickly, "and he wouldn't need your skills for that."

"Thanks Padfoot," said James dryly, "I feel whole lot better."

"Anyway that is beside the point," Sirius said firmly, cutting off any routes for their imagination to run wild. "Our main focus should be on how to escape this hell hole."

James paused a while, silent- his breathing was still uneven and laboured, before he finally sighed in agreement. "I suppose it increases our chances of escape now that the Dark Lord has temporarily finished his use for me."

"No it does not," Sirius countered, forgetting James' warning at his being pessimistic. Somehow he just couldn't help it in Azkaban. "Firstly, you are physically weak and I wouldn't be surprised if you can't even manage to stand up properly, let alone be successful in a daring escapade. Secondly, the Death- Eaters check on you more frequently, sometimes even twice a day."

James fell silent. "What was the approximate last time the Death- Eaters came checking?" he asked presently.

"If you trust my internal clock, around eight hours ago," Sirius replied, "which leaves us another four, if not less."

"The idea of sticking my prongs into the keyholes won't work," James said frustratedly, "I need my antlers to be exactly like the shape of the key, and to do that I would need the key, so the point is moot."

Sirius groaned. "Sometimes I wish that my animagus form was something small."

"A rat?" James said darkly.

"No!" Sirius' voice was vehement. "Right, forget about that. Our best chance of escape is still by using our Animagus form. It is the only kind of magic we can do presently, and the bars of the this cell nor the keyholes respond to any form of spell. Providing I'm skinny enough, I should think my animagus form would be small enough to squeeze through the bars... but at any rate I'm still tied up."

James slumped back against the wall with a new groan. "The prongs idea is still the best one we have yet?"

"Yes," Sirius admitted, "unless you would like us both to suffer from painful burns."

"Painful burns," James repeated tiredly. "What about that plan?"

"This is the last resort plan I have in mind, and it's going to be rather desperate," Sirius warned. "It's basically something like yours. Can you manage the Fire Tickling charm without a wand?"

James frowned. "In normal circumstances certainly, that spell is easy."

"Then you better pray it works," Sirius said. "Or you're going to suffer painfully. After casting that charm around yourself, you start to struggle. The chains, according to you, will start to heat up, so you can try pressing those snakey chains of yours around my normal chains, until my chains start to melt. My cuffs can remain on as my bracelet, I suppose- we won't waste time trying to break them off. And after I'm free to move, I'll squeeze out through the bars and pick your keyhole."

James listened to this for a while, before saying, "It sounds pretty good, but there are a few major flaws I'm sure you realized. One, it is a fire- tickling charm, not heat- tickling; so while this chain heats up, the charm may not work at all and I suffer anyway. Two, we'd have to heat those chains of yours pretty long for them to melt. Three, you might not be thin enough to squeeze through the bars. Four, in the miraculous event you manage to pick my keyhole and open the door, I'm still tied up- and trying to escape in my condition would just slow you down."

Sirius felt like retorting 'What happened to being optimistic?' but he refrained from doing so. Instead he tried to make out James' figure in the gloom and weighed their options. "It's the prongs idea or the desperate idea. We might get stuck, we might get burnt, hurt, starve or die. Just choose."

The eldest Potter pursed his lips. "Since we already tried the first idea... we might as well give the desperate one a go," he said at last.

Sirius smiled mirthlessly. "Brilliant."

* * *

Damien found himself once more in the Room of Requirement, this time accompanied by none other than Draco Malfoy, the only other person besides him that knew of Kit Mason's true identity, who intended to keep it that way.

The youngest Potter had just finished telling his story about his meeting with Harry, and truth to be told his energy was beginning to wear thin. He felt worn out and tired especially after all that running around in the rain, and to be fair it was already half past four, but Draco paid his yawns no heed.

"We need to find a way for Harry to regain his memories," Draco said at last, leaning back in his couch, his eyes contemplating. "The sooner the better, before Voldemort decides to attack once and for all."

"Surely a Memory Charm can be lifted?" Damien asked, fighting back sleep which was threatening to overpower his entire being. "I'm sure Professor Dumbledore could do something about it."

Draco's eyes darkened at the mention of the Headmaster. "Harry would never allow Dumbledore to do such a thing; and the removal of the charm is too complicated. It also requires absolute trust and consent between both parties, which would never happen in a century. Harry hates the old man. No, the fastest way is for him to view his own memories from last year."

"But how do we get that?" Damien asked. "Or do we just piece together our memories of meeting him last year until it forms a vague memory and summary of his forgotten past?"

"No," said Draco at once, "it would be horribly sketchy not to mention involve loads of hard work, and Harry wouldn't believe another's memories anyway."

"You might as well tell me that this is hopeless case," Damien grumbled, rubbing his eyes tiredly.

They fell into silence; Draco deep in thought, Damien trying hard not to fall asleep. Eventually, just to distract himself from drifting off- this discussion was way more important than his sleep!- Damien spoke up, "It's weird how easily I could regain my lost memory, and Harry's case seems so difficult."

Draco raised his eyes to look at the younger boy. "That magic stone of yours is extremely powerful, that's the only reason why."

The youngest Potter absently fingered the Layhoo Jisteen hidden beneath his robes. "I wonder if Harry ever kept some of those memories in a Pensieve..." he murmured, before stopping suddenly, his eyes staring wide as though he'd been shot by a Stunning spell.

"Now what's the excitement?" Draco said sardonically as Damien's face morphed into an excited grin.

"A pensieve!" Damien exclaimed, "Harry's black and silver ring! It contains many of his memories that Voldemort possibly wiped off his mind. He may have put in more memories than we know- it could help him recover what happened last year!" Damien was visibly getting very enthusiastic about this idea, previous sleepiness forgotten. Even Draco looked up at this.

"But where is the ring?" the elder of the pair asked. Damien paused.

"I was hoping it would be with you," Damien murmured. "I don't know."

"I think it would be safe to presume that Harry took off the ring before he left for Riddle Manor- he would never allow the possibility of Voldemort viewing his private memories," Draco reasoned.

"So the last place he was before returning to Voldemort was... Potter Manor," Damien stood up and began to pace, a habit inherited from his father. But where could the ring be? They had been in Harry's room before his elder brother left and never returned. Would Harry have hidden something there? It was possible, but somehow Damien thought that it wasn't like his brother to leave his treasured possession unguarded in his room; if he never expected to come back from Riddle Manor, surely Harry would not have left his ring there, open to the possibility that it might be discovered by someone else when his room was turned out.

"Any ideas?" Draco asked, watching as the youngest Potter walked about frustratedly.

Damien shook his head in defeat. "Not a clue."

Now, he couldn't help but regret all over again why hadn't he had a more constructive conversation with Harry when he met him just hours ago?! He could have possibly shed more light on Harry's past, could have asked Harry if he remembered the ring, asked him why exactly did he return, and above all the Marauders' Map. Damien couldn't believe he'd forgotten all about his father's prized artefact. Now he felt a stirring well of regret that he hadn't said anything more useful.

But unbeknownst to him, that was the main reason why Harry had sought out his younger brother; because Damien never cared about how useful the words he said were, he only wanted to humor everyone with his ridiculous stories... if Damien had forced Harry to hear the truth, he probably would have been turned away long ago.

* * *

Harry returned to the Manor with his attire soaking wet, his normally untidy dark hair plastered to his face. The moment he stepped into the chamber he had previously played a hand in destroying during his duel with Lucius- he stopped.

It had been restored to his normal glory, the windows repaired, mirrors fixed. The only mark left would be the powerful scorch marks and dents in the chamber walls, some cast by him- others by Lucius. But that was not what caught his attention- it was the Dark Lord himself.

Voldemort was seated on his high- back chair as usual, Lucius kneeling by his feet, wounds completely healed. There was a slight frown on his father's face when he walked in, but the expression cleared completely when ruby red eyes met emerald. There was a low hiss beneath Voldemort's throne, and Nagini emerged, her yellow eyes regarding Harry somewhat balefully. She had been released from her cage.

"Harry," Voldemort greeted, his eyes keen, snatching every single reaction Harry gave away greedily, as though trying to read his son.

Harry paused, before returning, "Father." He dipped his head in acknowledgement, then turned away to leave.

"I have not finished with you yet Harry," Voldemort said, his voice though light, had a dangerous edge to it. "Quite on the contrary, we have much to discuss. Sit."

A chair was conjured before Voldemort. "Lucius, you may leave," the Dark Lord said.

The Death- Eater hastened to do so, pausing only to give Harry a fleeting glance. If Harry had not known better, he would have passed it for encouragement.

The door to the chambers closed with an omnious click, and Harry hadn't moved from the spot where he was standing, frozen. Never in his life had he felt this uncomfortable in his father's presence, not even when they had first met... or perhaps, he had... but he did not remember.

Brief anger coursed over him at the thought, but it was over as quickly as it had come. Voldemort stepped down from his throne, closing the little distance between them. Hands grasped his shoulders, the painful familiarity of them stinging, and Harry felt himself tense. He could tell Voldemort felt it, too; though the Dark Lord gave no indication of realizing this. But as fingers grasped his chin once more, Harry locked his jaw and looked away, his fists curling and uncurling by his side.

Voldemort froze, before releasing him completely. "Tut tut Harry," he said, walking a circle around the younger wizard, "Since when do you flinch from my touch?"

"Is there any particular reason you wanted me to stay?" Harry asked quietly, still refusing to meet his father's eyes.

"So you're not even hiding it," Voldemort continued slowly, "...the fact that you've known the truth. But yet you returned... why?"

"Because your magic runs through me," Harry said flatly, slowly raising his eyes to meet his father's, which were glaring at him with fierce intensity, though Harry noted that Voldemort did not look surprised. Probably Lucius had told him of the reveal. "Believe me, that is the only reason I'm staying. There is nothing else besides that."

"You disregard being my son," Voldemort said, his voice hardened with steel, the same dangerous edge in it.

"Since when was I ever?" Harry said softly, emerald eyes meeting red once more, unflinching. "_I _treated you as my father, I listened to your words and the only thing I disobeyed you for was to find out the truth of my life last year, which I regard within my right. But you lied to me and manipulated me, putting a _leash _on my mind and controlled me like a puppet on a string, restricted by pain-!"

"Enough!" Voldemort's gaze was dark now, dropping any facade of calm he had once held.

"But I have returned," Harry pressed on, unrelenting, "and I give you my word, after tonight, I shall never leave against your orders." He faltered , but continued, "so you can at least admit to this."

Voldemort cocked a head to a side, mockingly telling Harry to continue.

"My life was a complete lie from the very start," Harry began, watching, gaining confirmation of his own words and guesses at the barest hint of emotions flickering across his father's face, "I never grew up in Godric's Hollow, nor did I realize who my parents were. I was brought up in the replica of my home-" the words seared his throat as they left- "- and abused by who I thought was my family. The place beneath the trapdoor was enchanted to look like a forest, where Nagini came along and brought me out to. The emerald flames beneath the small rock cave was actually the fireplace, where I entered and found myself here."

Voldemort's figure was rigid, but he pretended to be unaffected. "Your discovery was quick, Harry," he said, "I was barely gone for a day."

Harry smiled bitterly, his voice dull. "Not quick enough. There was no forest near the real Godric's Hollow, and the things I've heard never add up to your stories. But I listened to your words. I can ignore facts and evidence brought to my face and choose to believe another story, the lies you've spun. I've been completely and utterly blinded, fooled, all the while believing myself to be someone _special, _when I've been dancing to your tune. A mindless puppet."

The fury in Voldemort was venom, and he felt a flare of righteous anger directed at the boy before him, and Harry bit his lip as his scar reopened once more, blood flowing freely down his face.

"You are right," Voldemort said, his pupils slits of anger, his smile carved of ice. "You were ever only a powerful weapon to me, to be harnessed and used, to be discarded when you fell weak. I never had a son. I must have trained you my little pet well, have I not? For you to remain loyal, even after learning the truth of my deception," he smirked at the pain and fury burning in Harry's eyes, so intense that they were barely masked.

"You did, _my Lord_," Harry said, the last two words falling from his lips, foreign and hurtful, and his scar throbbed once more. "But my loyalty will no longer stand if you threaten or harm my family and friends." Green eyes met his, fiercely. "And I want my memories back."

"You are in no position to make such demands!" snarled Voldemort, his voice so low for a brief moment Harry wondered if they were conversing in Parseltongue. "Tell me Harry, on which side of the war do you stand?!"

The Dark Lord's voice rose in volume over the last word, but Harry did not flinch. "Out of my debt to you, yours," he replied, voice unnaturally soft in comparison to Voldemort's harsh tones. "But I withdraw from this deal if you do not abide by a few of my conditions..."

xXx

.

.

.

An hour later, Harry let himself into his room.

It was not raining in Riddle Manor; starlight was filtering through the crack in his curtains.

Tiredly, Harry walked over to the windows, his eyes finding the endless night sky littered by little chips of light.

It had rained before, after all. The glass panes were still stained wet from raindrops, the pattern of the raindrops' fall still marked upon his window.

He yearned for the night air. He craved the freedom of soaring in the skies, the vague memory of him racing his brother on their brooms dancing in the far corner of his mind, like a dying flame. But he'd already signed that away, sealed it off in a deal that enslaved himself to being truly, nothing else but a weapon of Lord Voldemort's.

The memory charm was slowly, being lifted, memories returned to him, crawling back painfully, but he would never know if they were complete. Voldemort could have held back some detail, and he wouldn't know.

_A broken puppet hung limply from the string._

"Named Harry," he choked out, a manic smile playing on his lips. He didn't care anymore, there was nothing else in this grey world that deserved him to. Only one, which he would never meet.

But what was he mourning for? This was ultimately his own decision; the one he had made the moment he stepped out of Riddle Manor to enjoy his freedom for the last time. He flew all the way to Hogwarts, enjoying the wild sense of freedom all the way,ignoring the growing pain and bitterness in his heart. The craving to throw the responsibility away, for that fleeting moment, and let go. Falling to earth stained with red, just as his hands were- take the easy way out.

He had met Damien. His younger brother. He'd always suspected the other- him last year had grown on the boy; and perhaps, a small part of him had always suspected Voldemort's lies. But it took the evidence to be shoved in his face for him to realize, just how deep the deception was.

For the last time, he had sought out the boy, ignoring the practical voice inside of him to turn around and forget the foolish plan. After all, since when had he ever given Damien a reason to trust him? But the boy, as a true Gryffindor he was- turned up willingly, trusting him blindly. He remembered feeling incredibly fatigued, yet at the same time so very _alive _when Damien brought him tearing through the woods, laughing, telling him to come faster, that he could do better than that.

A hitch in his breath, a painful stab in the wound. Gods-

...he remembered...

flying to Godric's Hollow-

-_promise you'll stay out of trouble-_

_- never take this off-_

_- _a stone, black as the starless night, rippling with magic, handed by his own hands to Damien Potter-

It was beginning.

- rage, burning fierce in him as he watched the Daywalker raise his hand -

- _you could have chose to help a friend, or stuck with your brother!-_

- anger, pain-

- flames, roaring loud in their ears, a hand clutching his who responded mutually, protective-

- A spinning locket, unadulterated, fiery rage - power- consuming him-

- the pulse of the barriers, power, power- weaker yet stronger than his, stripping his magic to the very core-

Pain, pain-

_"Leave us, Lucius!"_

A stronger force, so much more powerful than before, slamming into him, engulfing his entire being. Remembered the immense relief, remembered relaxing into the familiarity-

_You were ever nothing, but a powerful weapon to me- to be harnessed and used, discarded when you fell..._

_Fingers, forcing his jaw to look up into those ruby red eyes-_

_"You will never defeat me, Harry."_

_"Harry, I want you to have this. It contains a piece of my soul in it."_

_- Dueling, laughing, ruby eyes sparkling with amusement?- _

_"...then you are getting old. I hear your bones creaking for rest!"_

_- promise me you'll return, Harry._

_- I'll tear the world apart to find you._

_-I swear, father-_

_-_Yes, my _Lord..._

"Stop," Harry whispered, a hand clutching his scar, the other holding tight to the edge of his table, "_stop this!"_

He seized the nearest object available on his desk in desperation to stop the building agony, but his fingers curled around wood, and a rush of magic flooded through him, distracting him from his pain. Surprised, he looked up, to see his fingers curled around a new phoenix feather wand, red sparks shooting out of its end into the gloom.

xXx

As a result for his late- night wanderings, Damien was barely paying attention during the Quidditch tryouts the next morning. In all honesty for the first time in his life, what with the Duelling Club opening and Harry's return, Quidditch had positively slipped his mind.

It was a very groggy and dead- to- the- world Damien that followed Ron down the boys' dormitory staircase, shouldering his broom as he yawned widely. He could barely stay awake, let alone listen to what Ginny had to say. Thankfully, the new Quidditch captain was hardly one for speeches, and in a span of three minutes, Ginny had almost ten of them up in the cool morning air, allowing all Quidditch team member tryouts to fly once around the pitch for warm- up before they actually began.

Effortlessly, Damien kicked off on his Nimbus and quickly climbed to the highest spot above the goal post, before allowing himself to relax, enjoying the caress of the morning breeze. He enjoyed this for a good few seconds, before slowly opening his eyes to take in the picturesque scenery around him.

His eyes had just found the lake whereby he and Harry had sat together only the night before, when something suddenly caught his attention, making his breath hitch in his throat.

Faraway, he could see from his bird's eye view if he squinted against the rising sun- he could make out a sea of black.., and it seemed to be growing, closing in all the while, slowly.

**A/N: Sorry for letting you guys wait that long. Following the competition, (we got second! :) But one of the judges admitted that we ought to have gotten first if not for the dysfunctional microphones, they couldn't hear what we were saying... and the school that came in first plagarised our script horribly and copied many of our ideas from our presentation in the semi...! :( I'm still trying to get over it..) ... I fell rather sick and was in no state of mood/inspiration to update, hence my lateness.**

**Anyway, thanks for sticking with me so far, this story is going to end at long last! :P A few more chapters to go and I'll put this story by for good. I don't know whether it'll hit 30 or not. **

**Thank you so much for your stunning feedback, I'm sure all authors understand how elated they feel upon receiving praise for their writing... :) so here's a massive thank you to you guys. Hope you enjoyed this chapter!**

**Rating system**

**:D for amazing**

**'.' for lovely**

**'O' for okay**

**'X' for terrible.**

**P.S.: Just out of curiousity, who saw this coming? :? Do review, if you would? :P**


	25. Chapter 25: A Battle Lost?

**The Second Chance**

DISCLAIMER: I do not own anything of Harry Potter. This story is inspired by Kurinoone's awesome amazing story 'The Darkness Within', which was inspired by Project Dark Overlord's wonderful fic- 'A Shattered Prophesy'.

**I have hit over 500 reviews! Yay, thank you so much! Zillion thanks to **_rose, kitkat, lyre, Caroline (for your long review, thanks so much! Here's to put you off your stress ;P), Sorrel SilverLeaf, Oirasse, jess, Phoenixx Rising, The Darkest Wizard, Ash- Bookworm 113, G, Nyra Lily Potter, Harry fanfic (MY 500TH REVIEWER! CHEERS!), G, Kurinoone, coolchickdiv, Jessica and v1cky84 (1st reviewer for C24)! _

* * *

Damien landed swiftly, alighting from his broom in a single fluid action he'd learnt from watching Harry over the previous summer. His face was grave, but his hazel eyes were set, as though mentally preparing himself for something. Beside the youngest Potter, Ron had too, landed on the pitch, wearing a similar expression.

Ginny, who had been watching the potential Quidditch tryouts team members fly around the hoops quickly came forwards, concern laced with surprise as she regarded them both.

"What's wrong?" she asked, forgetting completely that she was the Quidditch Captain ought to be observing the Quidditch players. "Is Damien okay?" This question was directed at Ron, who was the only one who met her eyes.

"I think we should inform the Professors about this," Ron said at last. "The Death- Eaters are coming."

**Chapter 25: A Battle Lost?**

Within minutes of receiving the red alert, Aurors had Apparated directly outside the blood wards of Hogwarts, with the full support of the Ministry. However, this was not much to be said, as there were only four teams left among the rest; most had been wiped out in one of the raids or other, especially the one at Greville Town.

The rest of the student population of Hogwarts were quickly assembled within the Great Hall, with all Head of Houses escorting their students from their respective common rooms. Most were still bleary and blinking sleepily at being awoken at the early hour, but many older students recognized the imminent threat of Death- Eaters and remained grim.

Dumbledore, much to the accusations of a few staff members, did not feel inclined to veil his students from this threat any longer. In a single moment, he broke all hushed murmurs and guesses as to what was happening by announcing aloud to the entire school population, "Voldemort leads his Death- Eaters towards Hogwarts."

He paused, but there was no outcry of alarm, only white faces turning to watch him, the young imploring and innocent, painful to watch.

"He draws nearer as we speak," Dumbledore continued relentless, "and indeed we expect him and his troops at our gates by nightfall. I will not disguise you from the fact that our school is in grave danger.

"Up till now our blood wards hold strong. They will not yield to the Death- Eaters, not until all else has been weakened greatly. There will be no fight for my students, however; you will remain within the walls of Hogwarts and by no means are allowed to step out of this castle." His penetrating gaze swept across the Hall.

"None of you are able to step beyond the barrier, but bear in mind that whenever we resist, the Dark Lord will try. He will do all in his power to draw us out. You must not fall for his deceptions nor plans." A few students were murmuring, confused, but Dumbeldore's piercing blue eyes met Damien's hazel ones, and the younger wizard looked away in understanding.

"Now," Dumbledore began, "all of you will remain within these halls. I warn you once more never to leave without permission from the staff members. Do not leave regardless of what you hear outside."

He stepped down from the podium, much to many worried whispers, and walked promptly out of the Hall, worry etched on his features. He only paused once to talk to Professor McGonagall, and even then, however hard he tried to conceal it- the spasming pain was barely hidden beneath his wizened features.

Someone was attacking the Hogwarts barriers.

xXx

Barely had the Headmaster stepped off the stage when whispers, no longer hushed, broke across the hall like wild fire, some sobbing quietly, some panicking despite Dumbledore's reassurances. Damien glanced across the Hall helplessly, his hand unconsciously reaching for his Layhoo Jisteen. He needed a plan, fast.

The thought had only brushed past his mind briefly, so his was extremely surprised and at the same time, disturbingly relieved, when his thoughts summoned Draco Malfoy.

The elder Slytherin's face was set in a grim expression, and upon reaching Damien, he hurriedly snagged the younger boy's wrist and half- hauled him away from the crowd into a darker corner, ignoring Ron's hailed protests in the background.

"Voldemort is going to use Harry as a bait," Draco said without pause as they left the crowd, his serious grey eyes boring into Damien's. "You know very well he will. Do _not _fall for his trick."

"I know, I know- but you cannot expect me to stay behind," Damien said desperately. "I cannot lose Harry again."

"If you're talking about his life, he's in a safer situation than we are right now," Draco snapped, his gaze suddenly angry. "If you go out there Damien, _you are going to die. _Possibly Dumbledore will as well."

Damien's eyes widened briefly at being called his first name, but he pushed away the contemplation of this new fact into a corner of his brain. "V-Voldemort," he tried, "he knows he is right. I will never abandon my brother. I'm selfish enough. I'd put half the wizarding world on stake to gamble him back."

"_Damien Jack Potter,_" Draco practically growled, "if you go out there, you will be effectively killing all the students in Hogwarts as well. Voldemort will use your life to bargain for Dumbledore's, and there will be hardly any Secret Keepers left. The barriers will weaken, they will fall and we _all _die."

"You all fight," Damien corrected, his gaze burning fierce. "You were right; the Layhoo Jisteen I wear prevents me from fighting freely. You cannot be strong when you are constantly sheltered. Maybe it's time for Hogwarts to battle. Once the wards fall, the younger students must leave at once."

"We have no Portkey and we cannot Apparate within the grounds of Hogwarts," Draco said flatly.

"We cannot just stay here like sitting ducks in a shell, waiting for Voldemort to attack!" Damien fired back, angry; albeit not at the elder boy before him.

Draco dragged Damien behind the pillar on noticing out of his eye Ron trying to look for his best friend.

"If we are doing anything about it, we need the element of surprise," Draco said at last, "and Dumbledore probably has a stash of emergency Portkeys in his office-"

"Draco, you do realize that we cannot do this alone anymore," Damien cut the Slytherin off, his eyes meeting the other's intense glare head on. "We can no longer afford to be independent. We need to let Professor Dumbledore know."

Draco's tone was cold. "And what do you expect him to do about it?"

"At least he can be prepared," Damien answered, looking elsewhere, "and he has way better brains than the two of us put together." Draco looked furious, but Damien continued, "In any case, if you still remain distrustful- he cannot use this information against us. After all... it all ends tonight."

Silence fell between the two, the words ringing heavily in the air between them, truth resounding loudly in the echoes of Damien's last sentence.

"...it's better this way, actually," Damien continued, as though trying to reassure himself. "I'm tired of waiting around with this constant fear. Perhaps, after this, Harry will return."

Damien suddenly looked so lost for the moment, Draco had not the heart to tell him that even if they won over Voldemort, Harry had not regained his memories and would probably never return to the Light side.

"Perhaps," Draco only agreed, softly.

* * *

They had only just approached the stone gargoyles, with Ron and Hermione together behind him, Draco lingering farther behind looking sour. Professor McGonagall was striding in front all of them, her face impassive but definitely pale. The red- headed boy kept throwing furtive glances behind him at Malfoy, while Hermione looked positively worried.

"Damy..." she tried, "can you please tell me what is going on?"

"I swear," Damien whispered to her, "once we're in the office, I'll tell you everything. Why according to you I've been so... strange, why I've been talking to Malfoy. Draco."

There was no more time to say anything else but give his friend a reassuring look, before Professor McGonagall announced the password, and the five of them trooped into the office together.

"Professor Dumbledore, these students wish to speak with you," she said, noting the weariness in the Headmaster's face as they entered. "They say they have... important information. To help the war efforts." This part was slightly skeptical as she directed her gaze at Damien, who tried his best not to squirm.

"Yes, professor... actually, we've known this for quite a while. Me and-... Draco," he said, chancing a look at the only Slytherin in the room, who was standing at the corner of the room, jaw clenched.

Professor Dumbledore looked up at this, a momentary odd glint in his eye before he gestured for all of them to sit; Damien somehow ended up sitting with Draco across both of his best friends.

"I brought Ron and Hermione along because I thought they deserve to know as well," Damien continued, then stopped, taking a deep breath. "What happened that day, when Voldemort feigned an attack on Hogwarts... I wasn't being delusional. It really happened."

He paused, looking directly at Ron, who was fighting between looking abashed and horrorstruck at the same time. "Kit Mason forced his way out of the blood wards that night," Damien said, closing his eyes briefly as though bracing himself, "and it was on that same night they I discovered that he was actually Harry Potter."

He continued before the silence could grow, unable to look at the faces of his friends, only resting his gaze on his fidgeting fingers. "Draco Malfoy soon guessed the truth as well, following the events of the Duelling Club, and he came to see me in the Hospital Wing. I was injured while trying to prevent Harry to escape. You see, on the evening directly before the Duelling Club, Kit tricked me into training with him in the Room of Requirement. I was not wearing the Layhoo Jisteen, and he Stunned me and drugged me with Veritaserum."

A chill went up his spine as he remembered those cold blue eyes glaring down at him from a familiar face. "He started asking me questions about Harry, during his stay at Hogwarts last year. Most importantly, he asked when was the Imperius Curse placed upon him. From there, we deduced that was the lie Voldemort spun after wiping Harry's memories. During the interrogation, Harry's glamour faded as well- and his eyes changed back to their original colour. Green. He mind- wiped me after I saw it... it's only thanks to the Layhoo Jisteen that I recovered the memory."

Damien stopped at this, thinking that he had gabbled too much information in a rush. Glancing around, he noticed Ron looked as though he'd been punched in the gut. Hermione was pale and her hands, he noticed, were shaking slightly- but she was frowning, as though trying to piece together a puzzle piece. He dared not look at Professor McGonagall nor the Headmaster; their heavy demanding gazes doubtless was something he wanted to avoid rather keenly.

This was proving to be much more difficult than he had originally anticipated.

To his immense surprise, relief and no small touch of gratitude, however, Draco took over the story albeit with an emotionless air, telling the rest of them what Damien and Draco had figured out during their discussion in the Hospital Wing. He told them how they speculated what really happened on the night when Hogsmeade had been destroyed. He told them almost everything they knew, though Draco deliberately left out the part about how they found out about Harry weakened greatly by the wards. The part about Damien sending the letter to Lucius by breaching the wards, or meeting his elder brother last night was left out as well.

When Draco finished, the heavy silence around the room was suffocating. There were wide- eyed gazes exchanged, and the youngest Potter could barely rein in his wince as Ron looked at him, mouth hanging slightly open, dumbstruck.

"When we saw you with Malfoy..." the redhead started, an expression of incredulous disbelief over his features. "...I never expected it to be something like this."

"Yeah well, things just happened," Damien shrugged uncomfortably. "And I didn't tell you because, well- "

"I refused to let anyone else in on the matter," Draco said flatly, ignoring the others' angry or disbelieving expressions with infuriating calmness.

Damien, however, had one question for Dumbledore.

"In the letter Harry sent to you, what did he say?" he said, raising his eyes to look at Professor Dumbledore for the first time he set foot in the office that day. "Was there anything else besides the plans of the Blood Wards?" he asked.

Blue eyes met hazel, and they looked brighter than they had been before as the Headmaster wordlessly pulled a familiar looking singed parchment out of thin air, and handed it to Damien.

It was a simple order after all. Damien's eyes travelled across his brother's words and felt tears sting his eyes.

_Keep them safe. You know what to do._

xXx

The rest of the afternoon passed in a frenzy of worry and distress; the students were trapped in the Hall, unable to go anywhere else, while they were mostly left to their own devices. Despite the absence of professors to maintain the discipline of the rest of the Hogwarts population, all was relatively silent as students huddled together in small but tightly knit groups, some whispering their fears, some just sitting together in grim silence.

All in all it was a very tense atmosphere when Draco, Damien, Ron and Hermione arrived back from the Headmaster's office. Ginny was sitting in a farther corner comforting a few younger girls, so the four of them sat down at the furthest end of the Great Hall by themselves, ignoring the odd looks that were thrown their way, especially at Draco. After all his green and silver robes stood out amongst the red and gold around that corner.

"I can't believe that was it!" Damien fumed angrily, a definite scowl on his face. "I told him everything! Every single bloody fact that we spent ages figuring out, and that's it?! Don't do anything stupid, just stay here and keep your fingers crossed!"

"I told you I'd say I told you so," Draco commented, though none too smugly. "Dumbledore's hardly going to do anything about it. If any, he'd probably ensure that you will not get out of Hogwarts, knowing Voldemort's going to pull a stunt with Harry."

"I let him know Voldemort's trump card early!" Damien continued to rant at the huge letdown. "He gets to ask questions and gets all the answers, but I never get my turn!"

"Stop sulking," snapped Draco. "Honestly, you spend too much time around that owl of yours. I don't see why you're acting so surprised. Maybe next time you'll actually listen to what I say."

Damien could scarcely believe it. "Excuse me?"

Ron didn't know which was more bizarre; the fact that Draco was quarreling with Damien, or the fact that he had to break up their bicker.

"We need to focus," Ron said, louder this time, above both of their voices, while trying to maintain a neutral expression. "This isn't getting us anywhere."

For a moment, Damien stared at him, so surprised that he forgot his previous annoyance, then he remembered the Death- Eaters heading their way and sobered immediately.

"Maybe we should just go with Professor Dumbledore's plan," Hermione suggested in a small voice. "We might just make things worse trying to intervene..." she trailed off at the dangerous look on Draco's face.

"If you seriously trust that man to secure Harry's safe return and win the war against Voldemort, you are even more stupid than you look," said Draco scathingly. "There is no way we can get Harry back if Harry is unwilling to come with us. He needs to regain his memories; that is the only hope we have left for him to return."

Nobody said anything at this; Ron opened his mouth half- heartedly to tell Malfoy off for talking to Hermione that way, before deciding to let it slide for a while just for the sake of their discussion. He wanted to only include Hermione and Damien, but he couldn't turn Malfoy away, as _he _was seemingly the one that helped Damien discover everything they already knew, therefore Malfoy was the one that was extending inclusion to him.

"We need to list out the facts we already know," Damien said, getting up and starting to pace once more. "Has Voldemort realized that we have discovered Harry's identity?"

This question was pointedly directed at Draco, whose father was a Death- Eater, but the Slytherin complied anyway- "I don't think so. Voldemort would have father's head if he realized that someone else discovered his trump card before he revealed it, and we kept the information to ourselves." He looked at Damien. "You didn't by any chance reveal anything to your mother when you sent that letter, did you?"

The youngest Potter pursed his lips at the accusing tone, but shook his head. "Much as I would like to, I didn't- just in case my letter got intercepted."

"Voldemort will probably attack around evening, at the latest- sundown. Before nightfall, I'd venture, guessing the amount of time that has passed since they were sighted," Hermione supplied, while Ron locked his jaw determinedly at the constant use of the Dark Lord's name around their circle.

"Then we only have two hours to plan," Draco said, his grey eyes for some reason landing heavily on Damien. "You're the only one that can get to Harry, make him listen to you. Only you can leave Hogwarts."

Ron hesitated for a while, meeting Damien's gaze before admitting, "Actually, I'm the Fourth Secret Keeper."

Draco's gaze held some measure of surprise. "That's good," he shrugged, "someone can be the back- up then."

"What is your plan?" Hermione asked, her tone somewhat fearful. "What are you going to do?"

Draco only looked at Damien, his serious grey eyes meeting hazel, which held determination yet at the same time, fear, hidden beneath his tirade of emotions. "It is the most reckless idea there has ever been, and it is typically, yours," he said, with the absence of his trademark smirk- smile.

Damien's eyes widened briefly at this, but he nodded anyway. Ron and Hermione were meanwhile trying not to grow alarmed.

"It is really the best we can hope for," Draco said somewhat defensively.

"There must be a distraction though," Damien said, trying his best not to betray his scared tone. "Preferably a huge one."

The Slytherin drew his knees up to his chin, pressing his fingers to his temple as he thought. "I need to concentrate," he murmured.

"Well, maybe we'll play this out like chess," Ron suggested. "Find our strengths and weaknesses. Voldemort attacks from the forest. We must find our advantage..."

Then it hit Draco.

Forest. Of course!

"Granger," he snapped suddenly, barely registering that this was one of the sacredly few times he'd ever called her by her name, albeit not her first name. "Can you find out if there is any wind tonight? By sundown. I need it to be accurate. And the direction. Strong or mild."

"Er- yes sure, there is a spell but it's rather complicated," Hermione started, standing up as she did so. She wanted to ask why, but she supposed Draco Malfoy would not give her an answer just yet. Most probably he'd just get edgy and annoyed. "I can try it now... but I need a place in the open. Preferably somewhere high up."

Draco nodded. "Go to the Astronomy tower, you will have the best vintage point of view. The time set is approximately after Voldemort arrives."

"I'll come with you," Ron said obligingly, and the pair got up and left together. They gave Damien a small smile of reassurance, and Ron leaned close to the youngest Potter as he left, whispering in his ear, "don't let Malfoy make you do anything stupid."

Damien shook his head in amusement. "I won't. See you later."

When the pair had left, only Draco and Damien remained there, looking uncomfortably at each other.

"It's still a very reckless plan," the elder of the pair was the first to speak, looking anywhere else but the younger boy before him. "I have to admit, this is the worst plan I've ever made, counting those I never dared to put into action."

"If it gives me a chance to get to Harry, I'm not passing it up," Damien said immediately. "But why do you need the direction of the wind?"

"How good are you at casting cursed fire?" Draco asked instead.

* * *

They marched onto Hogwarts from the distance, wiping out two small villages close by the school for witchcraft and wizardry. Hogwarts was completely alone now, with Hogsmeade destroyed and Greville Town fallen- the only village around that area that remained standing was barely a kilometre before them, just beyond those woods.

Even half their number was too much for those petty villagers to defend; surely this one would pose no threat. As they marched onwards, their expectations were confirmed- they found the village practically deserted, some belongings left behind in the villagers' haste to leave their home. No man stayed to fight against the Dark Lord.

It was a pity, he mused, as he tore down the cottage with a simple blast of his wand, and the Death- Eaters set a ring of cursed fire around the now abandoned village, destroying every living thing within it. He would have liked to see more bloodshed; crush the filthy Muggles to the ground where they belonged.

Somewhere off to his right, he thought he heard a cry, but then there was silence.

Lazily, he reached forth and pulled back his sleeve, revealing the Dark Mark. It was his turn tonight.

_"Morsmorde!" _

Green light snarked upwards, splitting like a forked tongue as it reached the sky. It transformed into a glowing symbol, a skull with a serpent's tongue, which hung above them, throwing eerie lights in the slowly darkening clouds. Chilly wind blew from the east, as autumn always brought about strong wind -but it hindered them not; their cloaks kept most of the cold at bay.

"Avery!"

He turned to face the man who hailed him, realizing it to be none other than Lucius Malfoy. The man had just Apparated to the site, doubtless leaving the rest to dirty their hands with Muggle blood.

"Lucius Malfoy," he greeted lightly in return, eyes hard. "Has the Dark Lord sent you here?"

Truth to be told, he was anxious for new orders. While he was the leader of the group, there was only so far they were allowed to go before they settled for camp and waited for the other teams to arrive. Then they would await the Dark Lord's signal to attack. He understood the reasoning of the plans; by approaching from far, the Dark Lord instilled fear as the villages and towns fell one by one as they headed for Hogwarts. They gave the Ministry time to send all the Aurors they had to be stationed around the school to prepare for attack, leaving the Ministry itself defenseless. Only a handful of Death- Eaters would be needed to take over the Ministry, which would be an easy feat.

"Of course," the taller of the pair replied. "The Dark Lord says to await his signal. There will be a change of plans."

Avery nodded before turning to leave. It wouldn't make a difference, before sundown or not- by nightfall, Hogwarts would be at their mercy.

xXx

Lucius returned to the Manor directly after relaying his orders to Avery.

Somehow the thought that all of it; the war that had been raging in Britain for the past few decades would finally cease after tonight brought a chill to him. He was never one for bloodshed, having a son of his own whom he loved dearly; yet he supported the Dark Lord's cause. He believed that Muggles ought to learn their own place, but he would have never gone this far to rage war in Britain, if not for the threat of imminent death upon his family if he failed to comply.

He wondered where Draco was. How was he faring, since the day Potter sent that letter telling him his son was weak and in need of help? How was it Draco would willingly aid the Order? If it was to avenge Harry's death, Lucius couldn't help but feel a small twinge of pride in him, along with fear- for his son possessed a courage in him that he himself never had.

It seemed so long ago since he last saw Draco, when he'd just been a young spoilt child, until the week before he sent off his son with many fears in his heart. Draco had been so subdued, suddenly so matured and quiet; he didn't know what to make of it. But he'd been away at the Manor at that time, with Death- Eater meetings and Harry given a second chance to life; he'd let the week slip past by. There had also been a part in him that feared, if he were to have his only son constantly on his thoughts, the Dark Lord would quickly find where Draco was if he were to perform Legilimency on him, so both unconsciously and consciously- he'd kept his distance.

He hurriedly made a decision- tonight, he resolved, he would find his son and bring him back home safely. No matter what it took. He would not lose Draco, not for the world.

His thoughts were so focused on his son that he was only partially aware of his surroundings. When he finally looked up, he was facing the grand entrance of Riddle Manor... and a boy bearing the face of Kit Mason was walking towards the doors, much like him.

With a small smile Lucius hastened forwards to greet the boy, but Harry, upon seeing him merely nodded tightly and walked away, avoiding all eye contact.

There was no one else in sight, not counting the two guards standing at the doorway, so Lucius stepped forwards regardless, a hand catching Harry's shoulder. The boy looked up, his glamour still in place, but his eyes were their normal shade of emerald green.

"I haven't seen you since last night," Lucius began with a small smile. Life had been hectic for him throughout the day; there were too many raids, messages to relay and meetings, held both at the Ministry and the Dark Lord for him to cope. There was also the matter of preparing for tonight's final battle...

"I was busy," Harry replied shortly, still looking elsewhere.

Lucius stopped, before asking hesitantly, "What happened yesterday after I left? I know I shouldn't ask but... you don't look very good."

Even with the glamour on, there were dark circles beneath Harry's eyes, and there was something about Harry's eyes that seemed dead. The mischievous glint, fiery anger, pain- all were long gone, leaving behind nothing but emptiness; a dull green. The boy looked tired, certainly- but there was something else more to it.

"You look defeated," Lucius said suddenly, and Harry's gaze snapped up to meet his. "Prince... Harry, please- tell me what is wrong. Tell me what bothers you."

But the days Harry would have complied were far beyond reach; he merely levelled his deadened gaze at Lucius, a small smirk playing on his lips- but the sight was foreign, unfamiliar. "You don't need to always pretend, Lucius, not anymore," Harry said. "I remember now, I know. What happened last year, what really happened when I was younger." He shrugged. "There is no longer need for an act, is there not?"

Lucius stilled. "You remember... all of it?"

"No, not all," Harry replied, truthful for once; he was tired of lies. The glamour was enough. "Only some, returning to me slowly, painfully. Probably they'll never be complete. I'd never be able to tell. It's all up to _him _to decide."

The first bit of emotion crept into his voice; it was bitterness. Lucius came to a halt before Harry, his hand withdrawn from Harry's shoulder.

"He does care for you, you know," Lucius said at last, his grey eyes trying to find some sort of reaction from Harry, but the emerald eyes remained impassive. "He has done a lot for you, and you in turn have affected the Dark Lord greatly. All may not be done for the best intentions, but he never wanted you to leave his right hand. All he did was to ensure you stayed."

Harry smiled, again it was bitter. Perhaps, Harry merely thought, his fingers trailing across his new phoenix feather wand in his pocket, which thrummed with magic under his touch; it suited him more than his old one ever had. Maybe, there had been once.

Aloud, he said, "It's over now."

When they entered the doors together to attend the Inner Circle meeting, the boy did not kiss the hem of Voldemort's robe; but Lucius was still shocked to hear Harry call the wizard he had once called his father, "My Lord".

* * *

Twilight was fast approaching, and still Hogwarts did nothing to prepare for battle. The blood wards did not yield, though once in a while there would be a warning surge of Dark magic sent from afar, causing the barriers to pulse red. Damien felt nothing except for the smallest of a twinge of pain at the corner of his heart whenever there was one, but he was able to ignore it completely as Draco went through the final stages of their plan.

"I still don't think we should intervene," Hermione said at last, biting her lip in obvious worry and fear. "Damy is too young, you can't go out there alone and unprotected! And the stone does not count," she said before Damien could bring it up.

"It protects me against all magic!" the youngest Potter still protested. "Even most of the Dark spells."

"We're not sure if it can withstand Fiend fire!"

"It will," Damien said stubbornly. "It's just the Unforgivables and the Markalline... stuff like that that I need to worry about."

"What you're going to do is still... illegal," Hermione finished lamely. Ron rolled his eyes.

"Hermione, the Ministry is already a puff of smoke," he said. "No one gives a hoot about what the laws say. We're at war now."

"In any case we are not going to intervene," Draco said at last, "not until Dumbledore's plan- whatever it is- fails, or an emergency happens."

"Let's hope it's not until it's too late," Ron said optimistically.

Damien watched as Hedwig soared in through the windows of the Owlery and landed lightly on his shoulder. With trembling fingers he untied the reply, his eyes scanning through the words quickly.

"It won't be," he said, sounding almost certain. "All is going according to plan."

xXx

The evening sky seemed to darken even as the Death- Eaters approached from beyond. Even so, the weather that day would have been beautiful, if not for the impending threat of war closing in on Hogwarts. The sky was cloudless yet the breeze was cool; and far off to the east, strong wind was brewing.

Hermione had successfully predicted the weather, and she hastened back to inform Damien and Draco. Ron had been waiting by her patiently as she performed the spell, trying to be as useful as possible. It turned out that he could be rather helpful when he wanted; he successfully cast all the side- charms needed for her readings to be accurate, so that she could maintain concentration on the main body.

Even so, after working hard the entire day and making sure the Professors that checked on the students regularly did not notice their absence (they checked on them on an hourly basis), Hermione knew that her spell was far from perfect. The Centaurs in the forest could probably predict the weather change better than she ever could with her spells, but there was no way they could access the centaurs' knowledge. They could not reach where they lived; and even so, if by some streak of luck the centaurs were feeling helpful, their answers would always be cryptic.

Draco said it was fine; they could make do with what they knew, and pray that the wind wouldn't change its course at the crucial moment.

"Have both of you mastered the spell?" Draco asked for the last time, even as the slight tug of magic in Damien's heart manifested.

"Yes, we have," Ron answered in a rare moment of civility, while Damien nodded absently.

"You've got everything you need on you right?" Draco said, trying but failing not to betray his nervousness.

Damien only nodded tightly once more, but it was enough.

"Do you feel it growing?" the youngest Potter asked in a low voice, meant only for Ron to hear as the elder Slytherin turned away to watch out of the windows.

Ron's face was growing paler than usual. "Slightly. Yes, I do."

"I wonder why Professor Dumbledore was so much more affected than both of us," Damien continued in a whisper. "I know Hermione said that the stronger the magical core of the wizard, the greater the pull- but it shouldn't make such a huge difference, should it?"

"He tied most of the magic to his core," Draco spoke up, not bothering to lower his voice, nor disguise the fact that he had overheard what Damien said. "Probably more than he should have," he added.

"What does that mean?" Damien asked sharply, but at the same time there was a soft gasp that travelled throughout the Hall; very soft, yet tremulously loud to their ears. It spoke of fear, the one thing they had been anticipating all along.

No one was watching out of the window, even Draco had turned away. A few younger students burst into quiet sobs, the slight noise traveling through the thick silence that seemed to last throughout the afternoon until then.

No one moved. No one spoke. It was like Hogwarts had been held still in a time siege, all waiting with bated breath for the inevitable to arrive. The filled plates of finger food and sandwiches passed around the hall lay, unsurprisingly, mostly untouched in corners near the wall. Damien felt his heartbeat increasing, fear causing adrenaline to course through him; he felt alive once more.

All through the summer, through last year, through the past few excruciating months, and the painful hours he had to pass restless in the afternoon, imagining what it would be like to end the war- finally the moment had arrived.

He was afraid, very much so. This was his first experience in a battle, and it might well be his last. After Harry had left, he had taken to training, mainly just to fill the silence, the loneliness that engulfed Potter Manor while his parents were away at the Order meetings. After many reassurances from James that it would be perfectly alright to perform underage magic in Potter Manor, Damien began to frequent Harry's training grounds.

It wasn't much; the spells he practised were mostly Defense spells and a quite a number of offensive ones, but they were mild and served only to distract. The most lethal one he trained himself to perform was the Reducto charm, but he had ever only practised it on soft objects like pillows.

He wasn't ready. Perhaps if Harry had kept up the training throughout the summer, he would have been.

He had to. There was no other choice.

Footsteps clicked against marble.

All the staff members had arrived, Professor Dumbledore the first among them. Damien guessed that the Headmaster was in discomfort, but the aged wizard hid it quite well.

"They have arrived," he said, his troubled blue eyes sweeping across the mass of students, specifically seeking out a few faces as he spoke. "Whatever happens, I promise all of you safety as long as all remain within the confines of this castle. The Aurors will take care of the Death- Eaters outside. All I ask of you is to not venture out, do not fall for the traps laid. You may fear, but remember- feeling afraid itself is not a cowardly act. It is the action that counts."

Barely had the last word left his mouth when there was a loud cry outside, and red flares, bright against the slowly sinking sun, shot up into the darkening sky.

Draco's jaw tightened, and his eyes met Damien's wide ones immediately.

The Death- Eaters had attacked early.

Too early.

* * *

The brilliant green lightning that descended from the skies struck ground, and with it the Dark Lord arrived, the leader of the army of men before him. Stationed outside the grounds of Hogwarts, the two teams of Ministry officials and Order members stood defiantly, wands aloft, eyes blazing. Where they were outnumbered six to one in the last battle at Hogsmeade, now their number was even more laughable.

Only around twenty men and women were glaring back at his army, as though daring them to come any nearer.

He laughed, the sound itself bringing cold even in the middle autumn.

"Not going down without a fight?" he said mockingly, even as a few stepped backwards as green lightning struck overhead once more. "Well, let me tell you something- there isn't even going to be one."

His eyes flashed, and at the cry of his army, the Dark Mark shot up into the sky, brilliant and magnified ten fold, hanging across the gates of Hogwarts; at the same time red flares shot into the dark, colliding with green with a shower of sparks.

The battle had begun.

* * *

Professor Dumbledore was standing alongside Professor McGonagall as they stood facing the wards, all the way channeling their magic into the blood sheild, strengthening the folds. The Order members were putting up resistance, but most of the Death- Eaters had taken the Dark Lord's orders and were firing a stream of Dark magic at the wards.

They attempted to bring it down by brute force.

Then Dumbledore gave his deputy and friend a last look, nodding his head, before he stepped out of the barriers into the battle itself.

Voldemort's ruby red eyes quickly found him, and the Dark Lord's face split into a curved smirk.

"You put up little resistance, Dumbledore..." he mocked, drawing closer as he prepared for a duel. "Your precious Order is crushed beneath my feet. You have sent them out on a suicide mission; they cannot hope to survive fighting against me."

The raining blows of Dark magic were weakening him greatly, Dumbledore felt excruciating pain tear through him at the onslaught. He had tied too much of the magic to his core; too much. But he would never regret it.

"Pride comes before a fall, Tom," he only replied softly, while he saw red and orange dance out of the corner of his eyes. "It's not over yet."

It was then when, with a tremendous roar, a great wall of flame rose like a tide from the east, climbing high into the night air with the aid of strong wind, before crashing down of the Death- Eaters like a hungry monster, engulfing every living thing on sight, leaving only ashes and destruction in their wake.

On the far west, with a renewed cry, teams of Aurors and Ministry members alike rushed out from the forest, driving the Death- Eaters back into the flames.

The Death- Eaters were trapped... but then, so was Damien.

* * *

Unbeknownst to the rest of the Hogwarts population, much later in the afternoon, after tea break, Draco, Damien and his two best friends were summoned back to the Headmaster's office.

Then, Dumbledore had unlocked a wooden box and showed it to them; it contained the familiar blue and red tipped quills.

"If somehow, the wards are to fail," he had told them, "you must use these well."

After all, the Portkeys could not be activated until the wards were down.

They had exchanged uneasy glances, before Draco finally spoke up, "Why don't you inform the students as well? If the possibility ever arises, they would be more assembled. It would give them more time to escape."

"There will be no possibility," Dumbledore had said, his piercing azure eyes resting once more, heavily, on Damien and Ron. "Unless you decide otherwise."

When it was evident that Dumbledore had somehow guessed what they were planning, they revealed the idea to him. At first they had been hesitant, fearing that the Headmaster might oppose their desperate plans and prevent them from carrying it out altogether, but they needed the help of the Order, and even though Remus had agreed to it- he wasn't the leader. Dumbledore was.

So they told him. Dumbledore's eyes had twinkled for the last time once more, appraising the students before him, before he quickly relayed the plans to the Order by the Order's communicating device, which still seemed to function under the magic of the wards.

A small army of men was to be stationed at the gates of Hogwarts to confront the Dark Lord's army and make it seem more believable, while the rest remained hidden in the far west. A strong wind was due blowing from the east, where the flames would be lit. Nature would aid magic; the flames would flood the Death- Eaters like the sea, wiping off, by estimation, almost half of their army. Upon receiving the signal, the Aurors would then attack from west, driving back Voldemort's men into the cursed fire.

There was only one problem- who was going to light the cursed fire; and Damien had insisted he be the one, since he wore the Layhoo Jisteen. They had, much to Professor McGonagall's horror, tried it out on Damien in the Room of Requirement, but the stone's protection seemed to hold.

When they stood there discussing strategies, Dumbledore couldn't help but feel a strong surge of pride and hope, affection for his students, even the Slytherin boy whom reminded him strongly of Severus' courage. He remembered thinking that perhaps he had been wrong all those years; it wasn't up to the Boy Who Lived to defeat Lord Voldemort, it was actually up to them all.

* * *

They watched out of the window in horrified silence as the few Ministry members fell under the Death- Eaters' wands, bare few remained standing. Professor Dumbledore was channelling his magic into the wards, but after a while, he allowed his hands to fall back by his side, and slowly, he walked out of the barriers to confront Voldemort.

At the light tap on his shoulder, Damien turned around, his hands shaking so badly he had to stuff them in his pockets to hide the fact.

"It's time to go," Draco said quietly.

At this, Hermione promptly burst into tears, pulling Damien into a hug before letting go, afraid that this would be the last time she saw him. Ron would only be following Damien to the edge of the barriers and help cast the fire, before he would run back into the protection of the barriers; there was no protection for him against the flames except for his temporary Shield charm.

As Damien checked for his Invisibility Cloak and moved to go, Draco's hand suddenly reached out and caught his shoulder, his grip surprisingly tight.

"Your brother made me promise I would look out for you," Draco said suddenly, his grey eyes intense as ever. "Do not make me regret my decision; even without him, you must return safely."

Damien's throat felt tight. He could only offer a small nod before he and Ron left the other two behind, racing out of the doors towards the edge of the wards where the battle was raging.

xXx

The Invisiblity Cloak was thrown roughly over them as they raced past the Quidditch pitch, into the forest, where the wards ended. The Cloak flapped around their ankles as they ran, but they knew no one would notice, least of all the Death- Eaters who were still fighting on the other side of the barrier.

There was no one in the woods; the Death- Eaters were attacking from the main entrance. Quietly, Damien and Ron approached as close as they dared to the edge of the forest without being seen.

Three red flares shot into the sky; the signal to cast the spell.

"Now, Damy," Ron whispered.

Inhaling a deep breath, both wizards closed their simultaneously, and angry flames immediately leapt to life, curling out of their wands like hungry monsters, growing higher and higher.

It wasn't enough.

"The wind's not coming," Damien said frustratedly; more and more, tendrils of cursed fire errupted from their wands, setting the forest around them ablaze. Ron was beginning to gag.

They needed the element of surprise. If the Death- Eaters saw the fire before it spread; they would catch the gist of the plan, the could be prepared.

Still, there was nothing. The flames were growing dangerously hot, spinning wilder and wilder beyond their control. Ron's shimmering bubble shield was already out, protecting him against the climbing flames, but nothing happened. Damien could feel the ferocious heat of the Fiend fire, as it slowly curled into a vague form of a monster; there were loud crashes as two trees fell; yet the roar of the flames were louder...

Ron's shield began to crack. Damien saw his friend's eyes widen with panic, and he pushed Ron back towards the wards, shouting.

"Go back! I'll be fine now- just_ leave now!"_

As if to emphasise his point, Damien cast half a ring of flames around himself, separating him and Ron. His best friend only looked at him one last time, hand shielding his face, meeting his eyes.

"GO!"

At his last desperate cry, Ron finally turned around and fled, back towards Hogwarts. Damien could not see whether he made it or not; the flames around him had climbed too high.

"Please, gods- let the wind be strong- please let it be-..." Damien prayed, his wand shaking badly, still casting the spell over and over again, letting more cursed flames leap into the dark. The last of twilight was fading over the horizon.

Hermione couldn't have made a mistake... it was the Death- Eaters that had attacked earlier than expected.

The plan had to work, it _must, _all of it, the lives lost would be nothing if he failed.

"Please, let the wind come..."

Then come the east wind did, blowing ferocious, just like the flames. Damien felt intense heat roar behind him, and when he turned, he couldn't help the icy trickle of fear running down his spine.

It was stronger than the tide, the expanse of gold flames writhing into vague shapes of fiery monsters; it was like an ocean of fire. Damien felt the Layhoo Jisteen vibrate violently as the Fiend fire cast by his own wand crashed down on him; trees were falling to ashes, grass burning beneath his feet. Heat caught him, scalding even by the protection of his brother's blood; he could barely breathe, and he knew with a sudden lurch of his heart that the Layhoo Jisteen was not enough.

He threw up his shield, and thanking Ron's idea a thousand times over- reached into his robe pocket and produced the miniature broomstick. With a slight tap of his wand, it regained its full size, and crying out- of pain, desperation or fear he didn't know, with his heart hammering wild, Damien kicked off, soaring straight into the hell of flames.

xXx

The wind was stronger than what Hermione predicted; it whipped up with such ferocity that the tide of flames; Fiend fire, growing wilder every passing second- leapt over the Death- Eaters, engulfing more than half the army. Some managed to bring up desperate shields, some gave way- but most fell quickly, dead and incinerated before they even managed to cry out.

A full- fledged battle had emerged from the west, jinx and curses flying as the Aurors pushed back the Death- Eaters. But Damien only had eyes for one; his brother.

He stumbled out from the forest, his lungs dry and covered with soot; his shirt torn and bloody. Excruciating pain was burning his back, where he had screamed out in agony when the flames broke through his shield. The entire place was a hell of fire, hundreds of lives lost- and it brought Damien an overwhelming sense of disbelief and emptiness as he realized that he was the cause of all of it.

Much to his relief, he found his brother soon enough- the brilliant blue shield was a dead giveaway. Harry had managed to extinguish some of the flames, and was currently standing in a bare patch of burnt ground.

It smelt of smoke, intense heat, burnt flesh even- but Damien pushed on regardless of his pain. He knew he was shaking, tears mingling with soot, but he reached Harry in the end, stumbling to the last broken footsteps before his brother.

Harry was no longer wearing the glamour. Hazel eyes met familiar emerald, and despite everything, Damien felt himself breaking into a smile, the searing feeling in his throat if any, only grew, but not by the flames.

Strong arms caught him as he fell, and Harry's face was one of anguish, shock and horror at the state he was in.

He didn't know what to say, he had never planned for this bit. He could only pray that, like the east wind, the heavens would answer his prayer.

He whispered, his voice broken and hoarse past use, "Please come back."

It didn't matter how it sounded; it was sincere, it was desperate; it was something he wished and yearned for all his heart, so much he never realized just how much it ached. Until he was there, barely standing, clinging onto his brother for support and hope.

"You don't know what really happened," Damien continued, his ragged whispers tearing through his throat like physical pain, rebellious tears streaming down his cheeks as he looked at his brother. "None of us ever hurt you, dad, mum or uncle Sirius. You discovered the truth last year. You didn't hate us."

"I don't," Harry said roughly, and it was to the youngest Potter's surprise that his brother who had always been stoic and strong, sounded just as broken as he was. "I remember, Damy, all of it." Wetness clouded over emerald eyes as he whispered to his younger brother, the words stabbing his heart even as they left him."But I'm sorry, I can never return home."

**A/N: Is this still considered a cliffhanger? I've written the longest chapter in my life just so you know- almost 9,000 words! :)**

**Review if you appreciate it? :p**

**- The wind blowing up the Fiend fire idea was actually gotten from History of China, in the War Between Three Kingdoms, namely 'San Guo Yan Yi'. **

**Rating system:**

**:D for amazing**

**. for lovely**

**O for okay**

**X for terrible.**


	26. Chapter 26: The Flaw in the Plan

**The Second Chance**

DISCLAIMER: I do not own anything of Harry Potter. This story is inspired by Kurinoone's awesome story 'The Darkness Within', which was inspired by Project Dark Overlord's wonderful fic- 'A Shattered Prophesy'.

**Deepest apologies for such a long wait, and for not replying to some of your reviews. Here are the list of people I would like to thank: **_Nyra Lily Potter, Biaa Black Potter, emmybear13, red hair runner, MiraKL, Tommytooth, marina, smiley, Oirasse, Phoenixx Rising, the Darkest wizard, Caroline (such a lovely long review! :) ), Avyncentia, Ash-Bookworm113, v1xky84, coolchickdiv, Lady Gryffin 17, Kurinoone, Jessica, SorrelSilverLeaf (for longest review! Thanks so much!) and Potterholic 1999 (thanks a trillion for taking time to review other chapters as well :) )!_

* * *

_The Potters are not to be harmed by the Dark Lord nor his followers. Hereby, Harry James Potter pledges his eternal allegiance to the services of the Dark Lord, and should he defy any order, to pay the Price with every drop of his magic._

_While Harry James Potter is bonded under the Magical Oath, he may not raise his wand or any form of magic against any belonging to the Dark Lord's side, including the Dark Lord himself, and should he fail to comply, he shall pay the Price with every drop of his magic._

* * *

_If the Dark Lord fails to win the war, or breaks his Oath by harming the Potters:_

_- Harry James Potters' magic will no longer be binded by the will of the Dark Lord, but his allegiance will still remain pledged to Lord Voldemort._

_-The war must end in a treaty. _

* * *

_"I refuse to pay the price of filth," Voldemort countered, his ruby red eyes blazing with unrestrained anger. The pain in Harry's scar flared, but the boy's face remained expressionless. "My oath to you will be as such: the Potters are not to harmed upon my orders."_

_Harry smiled tightly. "But I'm afraid I don't trust your followers. Besides," he continued, looking up to meet his father's eyes, "they have always paid the price of your failure," he said softly, but his tone was cold. "Why shouldn't you do the same?"_

* * *

**Hours previously; before the battle**

"Be prepared to leave for Hogwarts within the quarter. Cygnus, I trust the group stationed at the Ministry is ready?"

"Yes, my Lord," Cygnus spoke, coming forward and bowing low. "The group consists of but 30 members as you ordered. They are already in position; they only await your signal. The scouts have reported that almost all the Ministry forces have left to reinforce Hogwart's defences."

All according to plan.

"Hogwarts will be ours by nightfall," he mused, more to himself than his followers. "Send the signal to Avery five minutes before we depart."

Cygnus bowed low, and recogonising the dismissal, the other Death- Eaters quickly bowed and filed out of the chamber. But as Voldemort watched them leave, his eyes were unconsciously drawn to a certain unfamiliar figure with emerald green eyes. He watched as the boy bowed to him, yet for some indiscernable reason he could not dredge up the any small amount of pleasure from the act of submission.

Usually, Harry was the last to leave the chambers, but today he departed quickly with the crowd, and was soon lost to sight. Lucius, on the other hand, was one of the last few to leave. It seemed that he had too noticed the unusualness of Harry's behaviour- for one, Harry's footsteps were no longer calm and confident strides, they were quick and would even suggest urgency. It went unnoticed by the other Death Eaters of course, but for those who were paying attention, they caught on relatively quickly.

The boy was planning something.

Voldemort felt a surge of dark hatred and anger rise up in him, but forced himself to clear his mind. It was imperative that Harry did not realize his deception had been discovered. Instead, he met Lucius' eyes and conveyed a silent order to his follower- "_Follow him."_

Lucius nodded and bowed low before disappearing swiftly round the door, in search for Harry.

xXx

Voldemort had guessed that Harry would have used the loophole in their vow to try and break free of his Oath. He knew there was a reason Harry insisted upon the words, _the Potters are not to be harmed by the Dark Lord or his followers, or the Oath shall be broken. _

Doubtless, Harry had never once forgotten about James Potter and Sirius Black imprisoned in Azkaban a week ago. The boy intended to have the Death- Eaters harm Potter without his permsission, just to break the Oath. And if the oath were to be broken, Harry's magic would no longer be bound to him. All he had left would be Harry's non- magical pledge of eternal allegiance to him, by word only.

And he knew better than to trust oaths not binded by magic. Harry sworn his loyalty to him because his magic flowed through the boy's veins- yet how much could he be trusted? The Dark Prince had turned against his own before, after all.

It was a relatively smart plan, but Voldemort had always been one step ahead.

In the end, he decided to sit back and watch things play out. If the tide turned, he could always twist it back to his favour... after all, Lord Voldemort was still the ultimate puppeteer.

xXx

Lucius rounded the corner to where the rest of the Death- Eaters were gathered, waiting for the moment to depart. Quickly his eyes scanned the crowd, searching frantically, but there was no sign of the boy. Then suddenly, there was a voice behind him, "Over here, Lucius."

He whirled around, fingers curled around his wand, but only met a familiar figure with a stranger's face. Lucius noticably relaxed, looking completely unfazed, but deep inside he began to doubt his conclusion. If Harry had really wanted to break the Oath, he would have left earlier when he had the oppurtunity. Why approach him when Lucius had his back turned?

"Tonight it's all going to be over," was the first thing Lucius thought of saying, and he watched the boy closely for an emotion. He found none, not even the barest tightening of jaws. With a sudden indecipherable clench of his heart, Lucius suddenly realized that Harry was tired from all of this- not just physically exhausted... he looked just as defeated as before. And not for the last time, he wondered what happened to the mischievous, fiery confident boy he had come to care for through the years.

There was a listless nod, but Lucius' heart clenched when he saw the emotionless facade, the emptiness in those emerald eyes, devoid of any emotion or liveliness.

"We will build a better world," Lucius continued to say, as though his words would make Harry feel better. "After today, there will be no more war nor bloodshed. Everyone will return to their original positions. The Wizarding World will continue to flourish and grow after the filth is purged."

"How can you be certain?" Harry asked, and Lucius felt surprised. "How do you know what we're doing is indeed for the 'greater good'?"

"The Mudbloods do not deserve a place among us, we could never co- exist. We were hunted like animals; we in turn regard them as the true barbarians they are. This war will bring peace."

Harry smiled, but it looked bitter. "That's what we all believed in," he said, then he walked away.

Lucius pondered on the answer for a long while until it was ten minutes to their appointed time to leave for battle. He searched for Harry but the boy simply was not there. When questioned severely, others say that Grus Cygnus had left with him as well. It could be no conicidence.

The boy still planned to betray the Dark Lord after all.

xXx

The Death- Eaters had all departed for Hogwarts, but only Lucius left behind.

Dusk was falling fast, twilight basking the sky in a red glow from where Riddle Manor was. Lucius hurried towards the double doors, barely knocking for permission before he strode in, panting heavily.

"I cannot find Harry," he said, breath coming with short gasps, "he has gone. Grus Cygnus is missing. The others have departed as you ordered."

Voldemort's eyes narrowed. "Just as I thought," he hissed, his eyes flashing. "Follow him, Lucius- but remember you must _not_ be seen."

Lucius hurriedly bowed and fled the room. The moment his footsteps left marble onto grass, he turned on the spot, and vanished with a _crack! _heading for Azkaban.

* * *

_Azkaban_

Harry walked down the dimly lit corridor, Grus Cygnus walking dazedly before him. There was a silent, repetitive _drip drip _overhead, and the rough hewn rocks were covered with a layer of thick moss and dust. The air had a heavy tang of salt water in it, mixed with years of decay and rot, and huge cobwebs decorated the rocky ceiling.

At last they reached a wooden door, and Harry flung it wide open at a simple gesture. There was a creaking noise and a thud as the door obeyed Harry, but Grus never flinched. They continued down the length of the increasingly darknening path before they found another door. This time, it was locked with many enchantments, but once Harry got past them, there was a flight of steps leading them downwards. Here, there were no lights at all to guide their way forwards.

They did not bring a single lantern either, so they were forced to proceed down the steep staircase in complete darkness. Due to the presence of the Dementors, the _lumos _charm failed to work in Azkaban.

When Harry reached the end of the staircase, he cast a look around the depressing cells, trying to adjust his vision in the oppressive gloom. He descended the final steps, then stepped into a small pool of dark liquid which he realized was blood. With increasing apprehension, Harry reached out to touch the cold bars of the first cell and stopped short, causing Grus stumbled to a halt behind him.

The prison cell doors were ajar.

James and Sirius had already escaped.

xXx

Lucius hurried along the same corridor in which Harry took, trying to retrace the boy's steps. He kept the Point Me spell going as he past the moulding structures and rocks to lead him to Harry, but at the same time maintaining a perfect Disillusionment spell over himself.

Suddenly, there was a loud clanging noise that reverberated from the depths of the cells to where he stood. Lucius stilled for a moment, recogonising the clanging sound of a cell door slammed open, before he broke into a run. He raced down the length of the corridor, ignoring the suffocating atmosphere, and came upon the same wooden door which was still left ajar from when Harry forced it open.

More noises were coming from below now- there was a long drawn out scream of terror. Heart beating fast, Lucius tore through the second door and stopped above the flight of steps.

Harry was nowhere to be found.

Lucius clutched at his wand tightly, his fists curling around wood as he studied the scene before him; he had arrived too late. It was just like the Dark Lord had anticipated. Grus Cygnus had fallen to his knees and was now stirring slightly; and before his outstretched wand was a small pool of blood..

He could already guess what had happened, but Lucius opted to check one last time. He performed the Finite Incantatem charm on Cygnus' wand, and sure enough- a faint ghostly image of James Potter running away, sprinting fast appeared. A jet of red light, the _Reducto _was then fired at his retreating back by Cygnus' wand. He tested the blood on the floor as well and was unsurprised to find that it belonged to James Potter.

Harry had decided to break the Oath early... but then, he wasn't the only one.

**Chapter 26: The Flaw in the Plan**

_He whispered, his voice broken and hoarse past use, "Please come back."_

_It didn't matter how it sounded; it was sincere, it was desperate; it was something he wished and yearned for all his heart, so much he never realized just how much it ached. Until he was there, barely standing, clinging onto his brother for support and hope._

_"You don't know what really happened," Damien continued, his ragged whispers tearing through his throat like physical pain, rebellious tears streaming down his cheeks as he looked at his brother. "None of us ever hurt you, dad, mum or uncle Sirius. You discovered the truth last year. You didn't hate us."_

_"I don't," Harry said roughly, and it was to the youngest Potter's surprise that his brother who had always been stoic and strong, sounded just as broken as he was. "I remember, Damy, all of it." Wetness clouded over emerald eyes as he whispered to his younger brother, the words stabbing his heart even as they left him."But I'm sorry, I can never return home."_

For a moment, Harry just stood there, silent, eyes intent, watching as hazel eyes stared at him uncomprehending. His jaw was clenched tight, preventing the rebellious tears from trickling down the corners of his eyes, but the pain was nothing he'd ever experienced, the pain was grief.

Damien's energy seemed to leave him completely, all of it- determination that once fuelled his quest to find his elder brother and bring Harry back home to where he truly belonged- failed him, and the youngest Potter collasped with barely a sigh to his knees. Harry couldn't bring himself to look at his younger brother's face, anguished and broken- it would hurt too much to watch. He only held his brother to him, those burnt fingers clinging lightly onto him for support, standing clueless in the battlefield blurred by smoke and death in the night.

"You can't have."

Harry looked down, vaguely surprised that Damien was still awake.

Quickly, he brushed his tears off with his sleeve roughly, and lowered Damien gently onto the ground. "You are gravely injured by the Fiend fire," he said, more of to avoid the topic than anything else. "I'll need to cast a healing spell, it'll hurt quite a bit so don't-"

"Answer me, Harry," Damien's voice hardening with steel, but the broken plea in his voice was still there, painful and unbearable to witness. "Please, I don't understand... if you remember everything, why don't you want to come back with us?"

Hurt, pain and above all, the pounding surge of guilt stole over, and Harry turned away, shouting into the wind as he squeezed his eyes shut, "That's it! You _can't _understand! And no matter what you say or do, no matter what I want, I _won't be coming back. _I can't." His voice softened at the last bit, he rubbed his face tiredly before turning to face Damien once more. "I'd say I'm sorry, but it won't do any good."

Damien watched his elder brother, and by the stark paleness of the boy's skin, and the gradually unfocused gaze, Harry guessed that Damien was soon blacking out. His magic was sending the body into sleep so that he could heal.

As hazel eyes glazed over, still Harry held on.

"S' not okay, but I know you want to," Damien murmured, his eyes finding an imaginary brother beside where Harry really stood. "That day when I was hurt and you Stunned me... I knew you were protecting me." He swallowed. "You didn't want Voldemort to know- I am a Secret Keeper."

Harry only stood there, waiting for Damien to succumb into unconsciousness so he could quickly heal the boy and bring him to safety, trying to block out his brother's words as though they meant nothing. It was easier to deal with pain that way.

"Sorry is a useless word," Damien breathed, before frowning slightly. "It's a stupid word."

Bright hazel eyes flickered close, then open, fluttering, as though Damy was fighting to stay conscious.

It was indeed. He couldn't have agreed more.

"Yesterday night w-was a goodbye, wasn't it?"

The words were slurred. Harry's heart clenched.

Yes, Damy - it was.

"C-Can't you stay?"

Hazel eyes held his for the briefest of moments, then fluttered close. The words rang in the still silence for a full minute, before it was blown away by the wind.

xXx

As the Fiend fire rushed towards the Death- Eaters, engulfing them completely, Voldemort immediately threw up a barrier around himself, protecting him against the sea of flames. Though the Dark Lord's shield served its purpose, it effectively prevented Voldemort from casting anymore spells, hence the Order's full fledged attack on the surprised Death- Eaters were successfully unhindered.

The Hogwarts barriers were flashing red, greatly weakened by the Cursed fire which threatened to feed on the school grounds. At Voldemort's distraction, Dumbledore took the opportunity to re- enter the wards and summoned his magic, pouring out every defense he knew of into the wards, strengthening them once more.

"You cannot hold this up forever, Dumbledore," Voldemort said, his eyes glittering with malicious triumph. "You know this as well as I do. The wards are eating into your magic. It is killing you inside."

"It matters not if I die here, Tom- no one would be able to enter Hogwarts. My sacrifice and protection to the school will hold," Dumbledore said, fingers still pushing in relentless tendrils of raw power which folded into the wards.

Voldemort smirked, then banished the flames around him with a wave of his hand. "Amaze me."

A bolt of what appeared to be thunder appeared in his hands, and with a lazy flick of his wand, Voldemort's raw, Dark magic, crashed into the Hogwarts barriers. Behind the windows inside the castle, Ron gasped as a dull ache spasmed across his heart, before fading- at the same time the walls of the school seemed to shake at the impact.

Dumbledore's eyes were closed, his face betraying pain, regardless of how well he had always been able to hide it. Voldemort twirled his wand between his fingers, laughing.

"You are a foolish man, Dumbledore. You have tied in far too much magic into the barriers."

"Nothing I would ever regret," the elder wizard managed to reply with a tight smile.

"Are you quite so certain?" Voldemort smiled. "I'm afraid I must let you in for a little disappointment. All you have done, Dumbledore- is for naught."

Despite what Harry might think, he, Voldemort, still held the upper hand. He had anticipated this move all along.

The Oath between them ought to have severed by now. Voldemort had received Lucius' report previously about his findings in Azkaban and realized that Harry had indeed Imperiused Cygnus to fire a Cutting Hex at Potter. He had never thought Harry would stoop so low; but desperation might have drove him to compromise on his foolish moral grounds.

All those weeks, he'd kept a tight reign on Harry, afraid that Harry would indeed make the move to break the Oath between them, but at the very end, ten minutes before the closure- Harry had managed to get away with it after all. He had even brought himself to believe that Harry would never hurt his biological father for the sake of breaking free. It seemed as though he was wrong. Harry had still managed to free himself of that oath, Voldemort's only rein over the Dark Prince.

But he still had one upper hand; Harry was expecting him to hold back against the Potters; Harry didn't know that Voldemort had realized the Oath was already severed.

He needn't hold back now; he knew that Damien Potter was a Secret Keeper. Why Harry had made him swear to never hurt the Potters, why Harry was always so tense when the boy's name was brought up... all of it made complete sense now.

Across the fields, Voldemort's ruby gaze hardened, and he saw a figure not half a kilometre away double over as if in pain, and smirked. He had found the boy.

_"He is mine," _Voldemort hissed, and suddenly, as though seized by a string- Damien Potter's bloodied figure was wrenched away, suspended above Harry's grasp, hanging in the air like a limp rag doll.

Voldemort laughed, waving his wand, watching as the body drifted closer, the binds around Damien coiling tighter and tighter. The boy wasn't even struggling; he was completely powerless. And he, Lord Voldemort was the puppeteer.

He drew back his wand, preparing to cast the Imperius curse, but then he tensed, instinctually. There was a distinctly familiar aura standing behind-

The next moment, a green jet of light was thundering straight at him, aimed for his heart.

Voldemort only managed to step out of the way in time; he let the Potter boy fall to the ground, uncaring, and whirled around to meet his opponent.

Ruby red met furious hazel eyes, and surprise flitted over accompanied by a flash of fury as Voldemort saw the familiar figure of a livid James Potter standing before him, wand outstretched.

"_Don't you dare touch my son," _the eldest Potter snarled, his voice an animalistic growl. "Leave- him- alone."

Voldemort's eyes flashed. "Make me."

xXx

James' clothes looked more like rags than proper attire, and his wrists were covered with welts and dried blood. There were signs of fatigue written all over Potter's face, but mostly his expression was one of righteous anger.

The Dark Lord smiled. This would be easy prey... and Harry would be expecting him to hold back, so most probably the boy wouldn't intervene just yet.

Voldemort stepped neatly out of the way of three spells zooming towards him, cast by James Potter, but still a fourth managed to graze his shoulder. Fury sparked within the Dark Lord, his smirk fading as he narrowed his eyes at the sight of his drawn blood. James Potter was stronger than he gave him credit for.

The eldest Potter was laughing, almost maniacal, a smile on his face as he stood off the Dark Lord. "Not so cocky now, are you?" he breathed. "You're not unbeatable, Voldemort. Your Horcruxes are destroyed."

Voldemort made no reply. They never knew. Instead, he channelled his fury into the spell, a beam of red blasting out of his wand, no longer just a jet of light. James' eyes widened as he moved to dodge, and it looked as though he had managed it for a moment-

...except that something didn't add up. Where was Harry? If the oath was broken, he'd be here, defending his family. .. If the oath was broken, he couldn't have channelled such pain into the boy's mind as he wanted to...

Part of the curse grazed past James shoulder; the Auror stumbled backwards in agony. But when he looked up once more, face pale, shoulder bleeding in earnest, James was smiling, one of triumph and pride.

_Double bluff._

Cursing, Voldemort whirled around just time to throw up his strongest shield against the blast of raw magic directed at him. He staggered slightly under the weight, but when the spell finally faded with his shield, Harry was standing before him, wand twirled mockingly between his fingers.

"Thank you _my lord_," he smirked, "you freed me."

xXx

Harry never intended to break Voldemort's side of the oath. The chances it would actually free him completely as well were slim and he would have never took the risk, much less have Voldemort's followers harm his family. But he guessed that Voldemort would have found that loophole.

So he'd acted predictably, waiting for the last few minutes before making an act, disappearing with Grus Cygnus to Azkaban. Voldemort wasn't able to stop him, but doubtless his father thought he guessed his motives. Harry had charmed another prisoner of Voldemort's, a former Death- Eater that Voldemort never seen fit to rescue from Azkaban- to look like James Potter, and opened the cell door. He had the ex- Death- Eater flee down the corridor, then made Cygnus curse the man. He had then dumped the body of the ex- Death Eater unceremeniously back into the cell in his original form, leaving James' supply of blood conveniently on the ground.

Harry could almost hear footsteps pounding above, doors slamming even as he completed his deception. In a flash he had disappeared into the shadows, the darkness complimenting his Disillusionment charm as he faded into the background.

He almost brushed past Lucius as the man came thundering down the steps. Harry never looked back, he just kept on running. But part of him kept on wondering where his real father was, where James and Sirius were now that hey had escaped on their own; the prison cell doors had been ajar and empty when he arrived.

He decided to take a turn to the West Wing entrance to see, but it turned out that he needn't had to. When he finally rounded the corner, he found them quickly enough, Sirius and James, the former supporting his best friend as they shuffled forwards determinedly, sticking towards the shadows.

When the main exit door was finally flung open, still Harry remained where he was, watching as both his father and godfather limp out painfully into the sunlight, all the while squinting and shielding their eyes. He had never expected to see them again.

"I can't believe the chains idea really worked," James was wheezing, and Harry suddenly noticed the mangled state of both his father and Sirius' wrists. "Your chains really melted."

"I wish I could open my eyes," Sirius sighed instead, not replying his friend. "The view ought to be beautiful. We're close to the sea."

Something in his wistful broken tone made his heart clench, and dreading the worst, Harry crept forwards, out into the sunlight, to stand silently beside them both.

Emotions, like the tide, surged through him, indecisions crashing like waves and fire. It was another of those times, when reality was too hard to bear, when a part of him often would wish his nightmarish life would just snuff out, like a candle. He banished the blurriness lurking around his vision, moved to turn away, but something made him stop in his tracks... he did not want this to be a repeat of history.

What if, just this time round... he wouldn't turn and walk away, throwing his chances out of the window. Perhaps this once, if he made a different choice, he'd make things better. They deserved to know from him after all, not from Voldemort.

So Harry backtracked, banished the Disillusionment charm and the glamour, stepping closer as he did so. Neither man noticed him.

There was silence, but for the roaring of waves for a moment, before he finally brought up the courage.

"Dad," he whispered, loud above the wind.

He saw his father pause in their painful steps forwards, stilling slightly, and cock his head towards Sirius.

"Did you hear that?" James whispered.

"I'm not sure," Sirius replied.

But then Harry couldn't wait any longer, he feared he would turn and run away if he did so. He stepped forwards, a shadow falling across the barely standing form of his father, his throat searing, tight.

This time, James tried to open his eyes, painfully, and his hands scrabbed across his eyelids repeatedly, wincing as he did so. The light was excruciating for them to bear, when they had been in total darkness for the past few weeks.

Harry raised his wand, a small whispered incantation, not bearing the sight of his father, barely standing. He couldn't bear the thought of them being crippled, all because of his delay.

Welts and burns healed themselves, fading into permanent scars and wounds a few days old. Cuts healed themselves, staunching the bleeding, replenishing part of each wizard's power. As Harry's magic weaved across them both, James' eyelids fluttered open at long last, hazel orbs bright even against the golden sinking sun beneath the horizon.

For that moment, Harry waited in bated breath;... James blinked, once, twice, looking up at him, his face betraying nothing. But slowly it began to change, from pain, sorrow, to slow comprehension, shock and disbelief.

His father lunged forwards to grab him, a harsh grip on Harry's shoulder, but he did not flinch away, and there was only long silence.

"I don't believe it," James was whispering, his eyes wide, a hand slowly reaching up to cup his son's face. "Harry left me."

Harry shrugged, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth despite everything. He breathed deeply, swallowing back the growing lump in his throat and said, "He came back."

A vague memory flitted across his mind, James ruffling his hair affectionately, eyes bright and smiling against the sunset, a broom across his shoulder, but in a flash it was gone.

Sirius was also staring at Harry, dumbstruck, but as Harry spoke, that expression slowly changed, morphed into a cry of wild joy. James' expression was also slowly clearing, the pain still visible but fading.

The next moment, his father's arms were around him, clinging onto him tightly for all he was worth, stammering, "You're alive, gods- you're real."

His godfather stumbled forwards and wrapped an arm around his shoulder, before he suddenly ran down the length of the beach, shouting into the wind, whooping cries of delight as he often did after a successful Quidditch match, the haunted look disappearing from his gaunt face. When he finally paused, he put his head in his hands, rubbing his eyes, as though trying to convince himself it wasn't but a dream.

"It's alright now," Harry only whispered, as James trembled slightly against him. "I'm back."

But his father seemed to remain broken, unfixed; so was Sirius.

Worry clouded over him, and with a chill down his spine, Harry remembered the Dementors.

Was he already too late?

* * *

**Back to present**

Voldemort whirled around, beyond furious, his eyes burning a shade of fiery violet. An aura of dark magic bubbled in the air, ferocious, and he raised his wand against Harry, the boy who had betrayed him not once, but twice.

Harry's taunting gaze never left him, the boy was expecting the attack. But Voldemort was done being predictable; for a moment his eyes were trained on Harry- in the next, he had whirled around and threw the bolt of raw power right at the Hogwarts barriers.

Within the protective bubble, Dumbledore's eyes suddenly widened, pain stealing over his wizened features.

Time seemed to stop, Professor McGonagall stared at him, her mouth forming words, but no sound ensued. Those standing around had only managed to take half a hesitant step forwards-

T hen out of the blue, a sudden jet of red light thundered out of nowhere, heading directly for Dumbledore, aimed precisely for his heart.

The Headmaster did not seem to expect this move, despite his uncanny talent of catching pennies before they dropped, nor, apparently, any other members of the school. The onlookers including a few students and the staff members could only watch as it crashed into his chest. Surprise flitted over Dumbledore's features, his gaze widening as if unexpectant-

Red blossomed across his robes rapidly. Dumbledore stumbled backwards a few steps, eyes searching, before his back arched and he stopped, falling backwards.

He landed with a soft thud in the middle of the school field, oblivious to the stunned cries of horror around him. As Professor McGonagall reached him first, crying out for medical help and repeating his name, his azure eyes were still wide open, staring in the direction of where the castor stood, even as the light slowly left his eyes.

xXx

The barriers were flashing a repeated red, haywire, as the first and strongest of the Secret Keepers fell. Outside, people were screaming, crying out names, and many were running towards Dumbledore, their Headmaster, students among staff.

Rosier Jr. stared at his outstretched wand, as though in disbelief. He wanted to turn around and run away, but Dumbledore's gaze, though dead, still pinned him in place, staring wide- eyed at him.

He would never forget.

Footsteps were pounding hard along the path, he knew he'd been seen. He knew he had to leave, yet somehow he was still rooted to the ground by shock at what he had just done.

He had just killed Dumbledore.

"You _filthy traitor!" _a voice bellowed, harsh and angry with the promise of murder. Within seconds, there was a swift, harsh blow to his face. Rosier Jr. stumbled backwards and fell at the sheer force, his face on fire, tasting copper in his mouth.

"_YOU KILLED HIM!" _the same voice yelled, and ducking two Cutting Hexes narrowly, Rosier Jr. saw the livid, demented face of Ronald Weasley. "I will kill you for that."

"He deserved it," Rosier Jr. whispered, a brief forced smile flashing across his pale features before he turned tail and fled.

Ron sprinted after him, eyes seeing red rage. The pain spasming across his heart was nothing now, it didn't matter anymore. Their leader, both of for the Order, Hogwarts and the wizarding community- Dumbledore was dead-

In his blinded rage, he never even looked where he was going. His feet just kept him pounding onwards, running with anger roaring deep and dark in him after the traitor who had betrayed the Headmaster, after all he had done to keep them safe. He never even realized, as Rosier Jr. vanished around the corner, that the person he was following was blurry around the edges, something like a memory, a blur as it ran.

Voices screamed for him, telling him to come back, but he didn't listen. The filthy traitor was standing but metres away, out of reach-

It was only when the projection of Rosier Jr. disappear suddenly without a trace, did Ron realize, he was already standing outside the barriers of Hogwarts, where only a Secret Keeper could reach. Fear pricked his heart with icy tendrils, he stopped in his tracks, heart beating fast in fear, but it was too late. He was surrounded.

Desperately, Ron backed away a step, trying to run, but with a pang of growing terror, he found himself standing right in front of no one else but Lord Voldemort. For a moment, there was but the loud beating of his heart, icy fear creeping up his spine, then four jets of light knocked into him, and he fell, spiralling, into darkness.

**A/N: I'm so sorry. I really don't want to leave it here, the cliffie is awful I know, and I don't know when the next update will be. *wince* But see, if I delete the cliffie, the chapter would be too short! And I don't have time to keep on writing, so sorry about that. :/...**

**But see, on the bright side, since this chapter is slightly shorter than the last, you'll get around two more chapters before the epilogue. :) Originally this was planned to be the second last, but I don't feel like cramming everything else into the next chapter.**

**Anyway, please tell me what you think about this chapter! Is Harry's plan understandable? Feel free to ask questions!**

**Rating system:**

**:D for awesome/ amazing**

**O for okay**

**X for terrible.**

**Please drop me a thought? Rating? :P**


	27. Chapter 27: Last Duel

**The Second Chance**

DISCLAIMER: I do not own anything of Harry Potter. This story is inspired by Kurinoone's awesome amazing story 'The Darkness Within', which was inspired by Project Dark Overlord's wonderful fic- 'A Shattered Prophesy'.

* * *

**Chapter 27: Last Duel**

_Harry narrowed his eyes, waiting for the Dark Lord to strike, but Voldemort was done being predictable. With a flick of his wand, a great surge of raw power, dark and pulsing crashed into the Hogwarts barriers which went wild, flashing red even as Fiend Fire lingered at the sight of destruction._

_Harry saw Dumbledore go down, his eyes wide with unconcealed agony; but before he could utter another curse, Voldemort had already Disapparated._

_x_

Minutes before...

Hermione tore down the corridors of Hogwarts, trying to keep Ron in sight, but her redheaded friend could run too fast; to say she was keeping up was a great understatement.

Seconds later, Draco caught up with her, his grey eyes searching the corridor up and down. "Where did Weasley go?" he snapped, his wand held prepared between his fingers.

"He s-said he would go out to take a look, and the next thing I saw- P-Professor Dumbledore had fallen..." Hermione broke off, almost unable to finish as a fresh flood of tears overcame her, but she hastily brushed them away. "I heard him yelling something about a traitor, then he just went thundering away..."

Draco didn't wait for a further explaination. "_Point me," _he hissed at his wand, then without a second word took off in the direction where Ron had passed through, Hermione close by his heels.

It was a sad fact that neither Draco nor Hermione were adept at running; Draco had ever trained himself to cast spells and endure the strain of constant use of magic, but his physical stamina was in other words, rather lacking. They tore through the Great Hall, following Draco's wand and finally burst through the double doors, ignoring the cries and whimpers of the students in the Hall.

"There!" Hermione gasped; Ron could be seen pelting towards the heat of the battle, firing curses as he ran swiftly. But from afar, the image of Rosier Jr. was clearly seen for what it was; just an image and nothing more.

Draco stopped short. "This is bad," he muttered, panting heavily.

"_This is bad?" _Hermione spluttered in disbelief and near hysteria. "Merlin Draco, Ron's reaching the wards- we've got to get him back!"

"We won't make it in time!" Draco shouted back as they resumed their run, tearing across the grounds where a small crowd had gathered over Dumbledore's fallen body.

"_Petrificus Totalus!" _Hermione shouted, a beam of red light speeding out of her wand, but Ron was already lost from sight. Draco fell back as Hermione continued onwards until she reached the edge of the wards, still casting Stunners uselessly, crying out Ron's name again and again for him to come back, but Ron had already crossed the boundaries into the Forbidden Forest.

"No..." she murmured, pounding the barriers helplessly with her fist. "Ron!"

"Weasley walked straight into their trap, there's nothing we can do about it now," Draco said harshly, pulling Hermione away from the barriers which pulsed red whenever she punched it. "You're only hurting yourself."

Sure enough, scorch marks could be seen on Hermione's fist, red and angry.

"They won't kill him," Draco reassured her as he let her go. "Well, at least not yet. Obviously, somebody wanted him to be caught for a reason..."

"Rosier Jr. ," Hermione spat suddenly; Draco had never seen her look so angry before. "He must have eavesdropped on our conversations somehow... or perhaps he guessed that Ron's the Secret Keeper. He was also the one to cast the curse that k-killed Professor Dumbledore, I'm sure of it."

"So he cast an image of himself and had Ron chase that image out of the grounds, possibly into the waiting arms of Death- Eaters stationed outside," Draco murmured. "And if Voldemort knows that Ron is the Secret Keeper..."

He trailed off, not bothering to complete his sentence; for both of them knew, if Voldemort took advantage of Ron being the Secret Keeper of Hogwarts, all of them would be killed.

"We must take down the wards," Draco said at last, "before Voldemort places the Imperius Curse on Weasley."

"But we don't even know how to," Hermione countered, "Professor Dumbledore only told Ron and Damien."

"Professor McGonagall," Draco said suddenly, "She's bound to know something."

"But what about Rosier?" Hermione asked as she struggled to keep up with Draco's long strides back towards the field where people were still gathered over the fallen Headmaster. "What if he tries something else?"

"I highly doubt he would," Draco replied as they approached the castle, "but in any case..."

He broke off as the glass window above them promptly shattered into pieces. He had only managed to snap up a shield covering them both from the glass shards raining down when an extremely familiar voice from above shouted, "_Expelliarmus!"_

Hermione and Draco exchanged looks.

"I think someone got to him first."

* * *

Voldemort walked in a full circle around the fallen boy crumpled before him, his ruby red eyes searching intently. Albus Dumbledore, the ever manipulative fool had managed to make a Secret Keeper out of this mere boy. It was foolish certainly, but clever... he would have not suspected a student... but his inside spy had played his part well, had delivered the boy to his hands...

A pulse of blue light suddenly headed towards him. He narrowly sidestepped it, but it caused a Death- Eater to fall over, unconscious instead. His anger flared, and he looked up to meet emerald green eyes once more.

"Not going to play with me, _father?" _

Voldemort's ruby red eyes narrowed as bitterness and disgust flared within him. Hatred was boiling deep and dark, like his roiling power waiting to be released, but it had to hold... he had far more important things to tend to before he would kill the boy... he couldn't risk Harry foiling his plans once more.

"Not yet, I'm afraid, Harry," he replied lightly, instead. "But where's your brother?"

It served its purpose, Harry's eyes hooded over, a dark shade of black stealing over emerald for the briefest of seconds; but before the boy knew it, he gave the signal, and suddenly twenty wands were trained on Harry, daring him to make a move.

"Only twenty?" Harry mocked, but his jaw was clenched tight as his eyes flickered towards Ron, judging the distance between them. "I'm wounded."

Then the first curse left his follower's wand, and all hell broke loose.

xXx

_Hogwarts_

They had just laid Professor Dumbledore's body on a bed in the Hospital Wing, eyes closed, fingers over his wand as though he were sleeping. Professor Sprout and Madam Pomfrey were saying something in the background, their voices broken, but Professor McGonagall's eyes were only trained on the two students before her.

"We need you to take down the wards immediately," Draco said. "The moment Voldemort enters Ron Weasley's mind, he could easily kill all of the students in this school."

"I would do so right away," Professor McGonagall spoke, her voice betraying no emotion, "but I can't take down the wards alone. I require Mr. Damien Potter's magic. There must be at least two of us."

Heavy silence reigned for a moment, everyone thinking furiously of solutions but drawing a blank. Time was falling short, fast.

By some insane quirk of luck, or perhaps fate had decided to turn her tide completely to their favour; at that moment, there was a shout at the door, and a Third- Year Hufflepuff came stumbling into the office, eyes wide and panting.

"Madam Pomfrey! You're needed downstairs... Damien Potter was just delivered through the gates! His father supported him until the edge of the wards. He's badly injured and needs medical attention."

Hermione felt her blood run cold, but Professor McGonagall remained impassive and calm, though her eyes seemed to cloud over with worry. "No Simpson, tell a few older students to leviate him on a stretcher up here. It would be faster. Quickly!"

The student's eyes widened briefly before he hastened to obey the order.

Hermione was torn between staying or flying back to the Gryffindor Tower to rummage for the Marauder's Map, to find Rosier Jr. and Ginny... for the voice shouting the curse was undoubtedly the youngest Weasley's. What if she didn't manage to beat Rosier Jr.? Considering Ginny was a great duelist and was already in her Sixth Year, Hermione had confidence in her friend's ablities, but she still needed to check...

As if her thoughts had summoned her, Ginny's voice immediately floated through the open Hospital Wing door- "Out of my way!"- so much so Hermione thought she had to be imagining things. Two streaks of luck in a span of a few minutes! Talk about fate.

"Ginny!" she cried, unable to contain herself, even as the familiar red headed girl burst into the Hospital Wing doors, leviating an unconscious Damien before her. She laid him gently on an empty bed as Madam Pomfrey fussed over the youngest Potter, inhaling sharply as she saw the damage of Fiend fire on the boy.

They quickly trooped out of the Hospital Wing for Madam Pomfrey to work in peace after that. Hermione threw her arms around her only friend left, barely containing her tirrade of emotions; fear, overwhelming fear, the pang of loss, worry, anger, tiredness...

Ginny quickly returned the hug even as Draco stalked off somewhere else without another word. "Where have you been all day, I've been looking everywhere for you guys!" Ginny said as Hermione released her.

"We've been... planning," Hermione said, flushed, feeling guilty for leaving the younger girl out. "I'm so sorry Ginny, we wanted to tell you, but-"

"It's okay now, Hermione... I'm fine with it," she tried to reassure her friend. "Okay, maybe I wasn't at first, but that's not important right now."

"Did you get Rosier?" Hermione asked abruptly as she suddenly remembered as she noticed Ginny's bleeding lip for the first time. "That was you duelling him right?"

"Spot on," Ginny said easily with a small smile which managed to lift Hermione's spirit a little despite everything. "He was pretty good, I guess, but I flattened him all the same. He's now paralyzed... two Stunners to the head. Won't be waking up for a while. He's in the Hospital Wing by the way... in the secluded corner cordoned off from the rest." Her eyes hardened at this. "He's considered extremely lucky he's still alive," she said darkly.

Before she could say anything else, however, the barriers suddenly began to go haywire once more, pulsing bright red and flashing green at the same time. There were cries and shouts ensuing from the Great Hall, pandemonium breaking wild. Hermione leapt up from her seat and rushed into the Hospital Wing, ignoring the doors as they slammed behind her, Ginny following behind closely.

"It's too late Professor!" Hermione gasped as she ran into Professor McGonagall who was still in the Hospital Wing. Madam Pomfrey was still checking Damien's vitals; her friend still remained unconscious."Voldemort has already manipulated the wards."

xXx

Harry threw himself to one side, narrowly avoiding the horde of spells thundering his way as he fired a few more in return. Even so, a Slicing Hex managed to find its mark, and Harry hissed in pain as it cut deeply into his wand arm.

His sole attention was fixed on Voldemort; he could not allow the Dark Lord to manipulate Weasley, or all was done for.

"_Ennervate!" _he hissed again, three tendrils of white light heading towards the fallen figure of Ron Weasley, yet once again Voldemort blocked it by firing a jet of red light in return. Both spells collided in a shower of sparks and disappeared.

Harry's eyes narrowed; the Death Eaters were repositioning themselves in a circle around him, effectively blocking any access to the fallen Weasley who was still lying there, completely vulnerable to attack. It was almost a miracle he hadn't been hit yet... but for how long? He could not hold them off forever. Perhaps he could have defeated them while protecting Ron... but Voldemort was different. His father was his equal. His only equal.

He wasn't his father! Not anymore.

With a growl he forced more spells out of his wand, keeping up a constant barrage of curses raining heavily on Voldemort even as he twirled about, forcing the Dark Lord to dodge and shield, cursing. The other Death- Eaters did not dare fire many hexes for fear they would hit their Lord instead.

"_Stupefy!" _

_"Avada Kedavra!" _another voice bellowed, and Harry only managed not to turn around in surprise; he recognised those two voices perfectly well.

He kept on moving though, pushing his magic even though it strained, not giving Voldemort a chance to retaliate. He pushed the Dark Lord further and further into the forest, he could not come near Ron Weasley...

Voldemort quickly realized Harry's intention, and with a last taunting smirk thrown over his shoulder, he vanished with a crack. Harry swore out loud, whirling around, but he immediately crashed into another figure- James Potter.

"Harry," the elder man said quietly, his lips pulled into a smile. Harry stumbled backwards, caught by surprise.

"Dad," Harry replied, his smile mirroring James' as he reached out to touch James' wrists. "You shouldn't be duelling yet, your wrist hasn't fully recovered..."

His fingers traced across skin; there were no welts on his wrist.

The man was not James Potter.

With a sudden burst of magic, Harry grasped 'James' wrist and twisted it viciously; he heard it crack and felt a surge of satisfaction.

"Take three more days," he taunted, eyes glinting as 'James' figure morphed back into Voldemort's livid face.

"What about you?" Voldemort hissed, and suddenly Harry's scar flared up in agony once more. The pain was so intense for a moment he forgot about the battle, and there was a sharp burning pain in his chest. When he glanced down, his shirt was already stained red, rapidly darkening, and edges of his vision was blurring.

"Not yet," Harry said through gritted teeth, squeezing his eyes shut as he summoned his magic for the counter- curse again and again. The battle was far from over... he had to stop Voldemort, or the lives of all the students in Hogwarts were at stake. Even as he forced himself to concentrate, his magic quickly wormed its way across his chest, healing the wounds, and while he tried his best to recover, the real James Potter and Sirius Black arrived to defend him from Voldemort.

"Don't let him get away!" Harry just managed to growl, but it was too late. One second, a jet of green light was thundering out of Voldemort's wand, the next- Voldemort was already gone, the killing curse striking and scorching the bark of a tree. James and Sirius swore simultaneously, running towards the spot where the Dark Lord and his followers were a second before; but there was no sign of them.

And Ron's body was nowhere to be found.

It was at that same moment when there were screams and cries from the other side of the battlefield, and as Harry looked over, he felt his heart sink with dread.

Hogwarts barriers were now flashing both green and red. Voldemort had gained access to it after all.

* * *

The power that thrummed beneath his fingers was strong, yet it was not raw magic; it was beautifully crafted, each tendril intricate and precise. He remembered feeling a small touch of pride before it was overcome by sheer hatred, as the golden tendrils were forced to twist to his will.

He manipulated the fool, Weasley's mind, as a puppeteer would control a puppet, pushing Weasley's magic further and further, manipulating the wards.

It was just as he expected; he had helped Harry create the wards after all. Behind him, there was a loud gasp from the crowd as a silvery parchment unrolled before him, and all the names of the students and staff in Hogwarts were revealed before him.

There was silence; shock and fear paralysing the crowd behind him- it was beautiful. He watched their faces, and before ensuring he made contact with the emerald eyed boy, whose gaze seemed just as penetrating as his was.

"Do you believe me now when I tell you I am the one in power?" he laughed softly, his voice carrying over the Sonorous charm, echoing all around the compound. "No one can defy me. All of these lives are at my complete mercy... I could easily crush them. _One by one."_

"But perhaps you need some persuasion," he continued, smirking as he watched the bloody and tired Aurors and Order members stand defiantly before him, unrelenting. "A demonstration is in order... who shall I pick?"

He felt more than saw Harry struggling to stand up, to fight again, stumbling towards the edge of the clearing to confront him once more. He thrived off the challenge Harry posed; it was what that made the game so interesting. He paused, waiting for Harry to come closer, stumbling, saw the boy clench his jaw against all the pain.

There was only dark satisfaction he was learning to gain, as he witnessed the agony and knew he was the one to inflict it. Where James Potter could do nothing but stand by helplessly and watch Harry absorb it.

Harry was _his _son. If he lost this tool; no one else was allowed to have it.

"I'm afraid I harbour a certain distaste for disloyal members..." Voldemort hissed, sending a ripple through the crowd. "Let us start with a traitor, shall we?"

He raised his wand and cut a thick red line across the green letters of a certain student's name- Draco Malfoy.

* * *

As Damien, much to Madam Pomfrey's unsatisfaction, was forced to be woken up to perform the spell before he could heal completely, Draco was racing down the corridors back to Dumbledore's office.

The stone gargoyle was no longer active, it stood morosely aside, staring into space. Ignoring it completely, Draco sprinted up the spiral stairway and barged into Dumbledore's office. His heart was pounding loud in his ears; blood roaring despite his impassive appearance- he had never been more afraid in his life.

He knew without doubt, if Voldemort got his hands on the list... he would be among the first few to be crossed off. He had chosen to cross paths with the Dark Lord again... Voldemort would not let it go so easily.

He forced himself to concentrate on the task at hand however, and with trembling fingers wrenched open the drawer and snatched up the familiar wooden box Dumbledore had shown them earlier that day. It contained the emergency Portkeys for the students to use if the wards were to fail, as Dumbledore guessed they would.

Hastily, he turned and scrambled to leave, but even as the door swivelled shut behind him, he could almost hear the faint calm voice of late Professor saying, "Thank you, Draco" those words echoing in an almost inaudible whisper even as the staircase swivelled downwards with a pneumatic hiss.

x

His footsteps echoed loud and panicky across the silent Hall. Any minute now, the barriers would surely be flashing red. Perhaps someone had managed to hold off the Dark Lord. But it wouldn't be forever.

Even as he skidded to a halt before the students, hundreds of eyes were already on him.

"The wards are going to fall," he said aloud, numbly, oblivious to the cries of horror around him. "When they do... activate this. The password is 'home'."

He couldn't face their many questions, their stares, their questions and fears. He wasn't used to being in the spotlight, not anymore. He didn't want that life any longer.

Wordlessly, he scattered the quill Portkeys on the floor, and some of the students immediately scrambled to take it.

"Remember to hold onto someone holding the Portkey," he mumbled feebly, a last reminder. He felt cold, numb with fear.

It wasn't over yet. He had one last mission- Damien and the others were still in the Hospital Wing; they didn't have a Portkey.

He grabbed two more quills and ran back the way he had come, up the stairs, tearing down familiar corridors even as his breathing became increasingly laboured. By then, he could hear the shrieks and cries of terror, the wards were pulsing green and red, flashing irregularly.

He burst through the Hospital Wing doors, his heart pumping wildly, expectant-

"Draco, what's happening?" Hermione said, looking at him, wide- eyed with barely concealed fear. "The Portkeys- are they- ?"

"I've distributed them," he said impatiently, trying to cover up the tremor of his voice- "The wards, are they down yet?"

Then Voldemort began to speak. His voice was loud as it echoed eerily across the school compounds. And as he did so, silence- immense, impenetrable- settled over like a blanket- there was nothing but the sound of his voice, the promise of death.

"_I harbour a certain dislike for traitors..."_

"He means me," Draco said, hating the way his voice came out like a strangled whisper. But he wasn't brave- he couldn't simply muster up the courage to meet death, like Harry probably could. He was no Gryffindor.

"No Draco-" Hermione's grip on his arm was harsh, unrelenting, but he did not flinch away. His eyes simply met hers, unseeing. "It's okay, they're taking down the wards now, any moment-"

"We're close," Professor McGonagall snapped for the first time, tension in her voice evident. "Potter, I know this is difficult for you, but you need to push harder. I need more of your magic-"

"..._Draco Malfoy"_

At that hiss, Draco finally found strength just enough to shove Hermione away from him, send her stumbling into Ginny.

It was too late.

There were cries around him, a scream of denial, but for him there was nothing but endless agony, a ferocious will of magic tugging at him. The next second, he was hurling through broken glass, seeing nothing but red- choking on his own blood- then darkness.

xXx

Even from the distance, Voldemort could see Harry's eyes darken rapidly into a hard, cold black as he uttered the name of Harry's once- best friend. The air seemed to crackle with energy as Harry summoned all the magic he had; a magnificent roiling bolt of power.

Their eyes met for the briefest of moments before Harry's raw power was sent crashing into the Hogwarts wards with great force, creating a gaping hole as he weakened it greatly, at the same moment Draco Malfoy's broken body passed through the wards.

Draco tumbled into the ground, his figure stained with blood; the glass shards had managed to lodge itself into his neck. Already Lucius was rushing over to his son, all else forgotten; the next second both father and son had Disapparated from the battlefield.

Voldemort's eyes narrowed in barely concealed anger. "Have you quite finished playing Harry?"

The boy looked as though he was struggling to stand; the bolt of magic had taken quite a lot out of him. But he still managed the faint smirk, "No I haven't."

"You do realize you cannot save everyone."

This time, there was a pause before Harry replied, his eyes back to their normal green- "I do not need to. They already are."

Already the silvery parchment containing the names of the students was crumbling into nothing more but dust, the pulsing red bubble dissipating into air as though it had never been. Even the lights from the Great Hall had disappeared, plunging the battlefield into darkness but for the lingering Fiend Fyre.

The Hogwarts wards had been taken down.

Voldemort whirled around, his ruby red eyes dark with the intent of murder; Black and James Potter tried stepping forwards, but he simply banished them away with a surge of dark magic. Only Harry stood before him, preparing for the final battle. Only Harry. Because he was always the exception.

"I've been fighting you all my life," Harry was the first to speak, his quiet voice carrying easily over the battlefield; the fight between Death- Eaters and Aurors seemed to have reached a standstill. "I'm tired of it."

Between the dark vengeful abyss raging for blood, Voldemort felt a trickle of surprise; he did not expect this. "Yet you choose to," he said lightly, carefully masking any signs of anger or hatred.

"Just take the treaty," Harry said numbly. "I gave you my word, I will not leave your side."

"I have not come this far just to settle down with so little."

"How is almost half of the Wizarding World little?!" Harry snapped, his composure broken for once. "Even so, then what? What more do you want? Power? Or further torture to satisfy your sadistic hunger?!" he spat.

Voldemort's eyes had gone dark, once again reminding Harry of their similarities. But this time there was no reply; a flash of green light thundered out of his wand, aimed for Harry. The boy immediately retaliated with his own spell, dastardly fast even in his weakened condition.

But where Harry used to have the upper hand in raw magic, he no longer had that advantage; and Voldemort was eager to play that card. The next second, he sent his own raw magic thundering towards Harry, except that it wasn't bright and pulsing like Harry's... it was black and dark, crackling with energy.

The boy could barely dodge such a huge blast of energy; Harry could only hold out his wand and feebly push the last vestiges of his magic to dissipate the negative energy. There was a few seconds of strained battle, before the blue glow around Harry faded, and Harry's first ever wand splintered, just as the younger wizard was thrown backwards into the air by Voldemort's power.

He stepped forwards, his feet coming to a halt beside Harry's sprawled figure as he took careful aim. "Come on Harry, I haven't finished playing," he taunted. "Or do you need more motivation?"

Harry gritted his teeth in fury as Voldemort promptly summoned over James Potter, bashing the Auror carelessly onto the ground between them.

"It's fascinating how I trained you to be so strong, yet you break so easily," he mused, as Harry struggled to right himself. "Love, an emotion that clouds the wisest, _weakening _the strongest,_" _he spat, turning his eyes onto the boy once more.

Harry threw away his broken wand his eyes lingering on the splintered wood for a second. "You will not harm him."

"Rest assured, I'll make it quick," Voldemort laughed, watching as Harry's eyes slowly darkened once more... the boy had barely enough power left, yet he was still pushing onto his magic relentlessly, all for those unworthy people he cared for. It fascinated him, to say the least, to watch Harry struggle to fight.

They were too close- Voldemort couldn't have missed; James Potter was still stirring feebly on the ground, his mutt Black was too far away to do anything.

"_Avada Kedavra!"_

In less than a second, Harry was standing before James, the jet of green light inches from his heart, another wand in hand-

"_Expelliarmus!"_

Both jets of light collided in a flurry of blinding golden sparks, weaving a dome of gold threads.

Phoenix feather. The wand he had given to Harry.

_Priori Incantatem._

Harry felt himself being lifted off the ground, his new wand jerking and vibrating violently, yet he dared not let go. He looked up and to his surprise, saw a golden thread connecting both his and Voldemort's wands; the battlefield, once so eerie and silent, was now filled with the hauntingly beautiful melody of a phoenix's song.

Then figures began to emerge, ghostly figures taking the shape of people Harry had once known, some he had never met. The first few he recognised were Rosier Sr. and two more low- ranking Death- Eaters... then she appeared. Looking the same, as always. Dark hair flipped carelessly over her shoulders, her eyes searching, intent. Lips parted into a smirk- smile. Her gaze holding.

He stared at her for a while, transfixed, a pang of sadness resonating deep within him, searing.

"Harry" she spoke first, trying to near him, but he tore his gaze away from her.

"I'm sorry," he said tightly, looking away. Sorry that he was the one that caused her death. That he chose another path, one completely opposite to the one she wanted him to take. For sending her back to Voldemort to be killed ruthlessly, for his crime -

She said nothing more after that. Just stared at him, wordless, her eyes flashing with countless emotions even in her virtual form. And despite wishing she was back at Riddle Manor with him for the last few months... Harry had nothing else to say to her, either.

"I guess I'm his favourite now?" she managed to say with a suggestive laugh, even as Harry's wand vibrated even more vigorously.

Harry managed a small smile at that what felt like centuries- old petty argument. "I guess it's goodbye for now... Bella."

The word seemed foreign on his lips, rusty, but it didn't matter anymore- the next moment, Harry jerked back his wand roughly, and just as he expected, the golden threads splintered, the figures started to blur and fade away, just like the phoenix song.

What he didn't expect, was for the golden threads to reform into the previous spells cast by the wizards holding identical brother wands...- for his blinding red curse which was frozen to blaze back to life. For Voldemort's Killing Curse to reappear before him, aiming for his heart.

He didn't even bother to try to dodge. It was too close a proximity. He just fell back, feeling oddly relieved at the easiness of it all, and allowed darkness to claim him.

* * *

.

.

.

It felt as though he had spinning for ages. He saw hazy visions and dreams, swirling colours of people he knew, people he loved- all in a mixed jumble of reality and wishful thinking. But there was always a voice, one he seemed to miss badly yet he couldn't place- a soft voice urging him onwards, encouraging him to stand up again... a mother he hadn't seen for almost a year.

In some odd distinct way, he seemed to remember: the way she would ruffle his hair, knowing fully how it annoyed him. The way she would reprimand him, the way she enthusiastically laid out all kinds of dishes before him, the way her eyes lit up whenever he ate something she cooked; laughed at something she said. The way he always made her identical green eyes fill up with tears so easily; the way he would ignore it, telling himself it was all for the best.

He remembered Draco as well... odd broken dreams rushing back to him in full clarity. Draco horrified and sopping wet. Draco laughing, calling him names. Draco whining consistently about something insignificant. More often that not he saw that arrogant grin as his childhood friend faced him across the chessboard. The fear in his eyes when Draco regarded Lord Voldemort. How he had changed... the way his once best friend stood across him at the battle ring, taunting him- no longer merely brimful with confidence, but always second guessing, having deeper implications and intentions. A true Slytherin...

"You will return someday, won't you?" Damien's voice suddenly pleaded, ringing through the silence, and in a flash he was standing before the broken bloody form of his brother once more, Damien's fingers clutched feebly onto his robes.

...The boy's endless chatter. Pride soaring in him as he watched his younger brother fly around the pitch effortlessly, guiding his precious Nimbus 2000. Teaching him spells, watching him learn. Bicker over the silliest things.

"Yesterday was goodbye, wasn't it?"

"I don't want you to leave."

"Please come back."

It wasn't his choice either...

The door on the memories closed.

.

.

.

"Harry! Harry, no- please- wake up- "

Blearily, Harry came to once more, to find himself looking into familiar hazel eyes.

"Dad" he croaked faintly, blinking, before he struggled to stand, feeling oddly more energized than before.

Around them, the battle had continued; but only feeble number of Death- Eaters remained, the rest had either Disapparated on Voldemort's orders or defeated by the Aurors. Most fell by the Fiend fire.

"Harry, thank god you're alright," he said, half- laughing as he hugged his son. But Harry just stared, unseeing.

"Harry... let's go now- you must get back to Potter Manor, Lily is waiting-" James tried to say, desperation leaking into his voice.

At this, Harry's mind started to clear, and he sat up, brushing off his father.

"I need to end this," Harry interrupted, softly. They both knew this; but it still hurt when he saw James crumble, hope vanishing into nothing but pain.

"Harry... don't make me lose you again," James whispered, holding his son close for the last time. "This is the last thing I'll ever ask of you. Promise me that."

"If there ever is a day I could, I would return to Potter Manor. First thing," Harry assured, taking in every detail of his dad- he knew it would be the last time he would be seeing him... he just couldn't bring himself to tell. He was a coward after all. "Tell mum, Damy..." his voice choked a bit before he continued, "...I will never forget them. Never again."

Then he released James, forced himself to stand again, and walked down the path alone, to where Voldemort was standing, remembering his own words.

_I have to end this._

It looked as though Voldemort had been greatly weakened by the ordeal. He brushed off the last of his followers and faced Harry once more. This time, he cast an orb around them both, cordoning off everyone else- Order members or Death- Eaters alike.

The first jet of green light still thundered out of Voldemort's wand, despite everything- and Harry countered it with the Disarming charm once more, though he broke off the connection quickly before golden threads could form again.

"It's over now," Harry said, his words loud over the wind. "You cannot win."

Voldemort laughed as he fired another killing curse, which Harry quickly rebuffed. "Surely you realise now, Harry... neither of us can."

Harry's eyes widened slightly at this. "Just as we agreed," Harry spoke. "It's a truce."

Silence seemed to fall at this, and both wizards continued exchanging attacks, but the constant casting of spells seemed to tire Harry greatly. He was still recovering from excessive use of magic. Every step he took felt like lead... he was no longer fast, no longer powerful. Just tired.

In the end, it was ironic how the duel ended similar to the one what felt like ages ago at Riddle Manor. Voldemort's wand came spinning to Harry's fingers, even as the Dark Lord blasted Harry off his feet using wandless magic.

Just that, Harry no longer caught both wands; he simply allowed them to slip from his slack fingers, watching through blurry vision as Voldemort came to stand before him once more.

"You can never defeat me, Harry," Voldemort said once more.

"You never won either," he managed to reply, despite everything.

There was silence for a long while; they were deaf to the yells outside the orb, deaf to James' cries, as Voldemort referred back to their previous conversation-

"That is why, I despise you."

A small jolt of surprise, then darkness.

.

.

.

**A/N: Eeeek okay I don't know what you'll think of this. Sorry, I was in a real rush to put this up- I wanted to end this story already lol! Much as I love writing this, I'm tired of dragging it on... so... here's the second last chapter ... hee hee. Tell me what you think?**

**Final chapter/ epilogue coming next, hopefully it'll be soon! And if you don't get the last part, Voldemort was referring to the conversation before then, when he said love clouded the wisest of decisions and weakened the strongest. **

**Yeah well hope this chapter clears things up- I've rewritten the last chapter slightly by the way to make things clearer. Now time to tell me what you think? Come on, the story's almost ending, review will you? :P**

**Cheers!  
Epsilon Scorpii**


	28. Chapter 28: Epilogue

**The Second Chance**

DISCLAIMER: I do not own anything of Harry Potter. This story is inspired by Kurinoone's awesome story 'The Darkness Within', which was inspired by Project Dark Overlord's wonderful fic- 'A Shattered Prophesy'.

_**So yeah, this is the last installment of The Second Chance. To think it's been 3 whole years! This is my first ever completed story :3 so cheers! As you must have all realized, I depend greatly on all of your wonderful comments, reviews, supports and ratings to gain inspiration, so much gratitude is owed to you guys: especially** Kurinoone **of course, who wrote the Dark Prince trilogy series, and by reading and reviewing every single time, thank you so much :) **_

_**Thank you to all my faithful readers and reviewers, (and beginning from the list I neglected to mention in my haste to upload the last chapter): Chapter 28 Of the Second Chance is hereby dedicated to: **merl7, xturkeysexygranneh, 7 Guests, Ash-Bookworm113, Phoenixx Rising, Oirasse, tiger1lily, Lilyzinha, Jessica, G, JustSmile x3, Potterholic1999, dark lady, Clawdor, AwesomeReaderandWriter 357, Nyra Lily Potter, Caroline, leaflakes, MrsGinnyWeasleyPotter, Kurinoone and avidreader. _

* * *

_Finale Chapter  
_**Chapter 28:**

It was now middle of November. One whole month had passed since the final battle of Hogwarts, since the Wizarding World had been split into half: the so called 'Pure' and 'Impure' region' ; it was ironic that the Dark region also happened to be the part of the former.

There were quite a few places in which Voldemort managed to conquer in Britain- almost a quarter of Diagon Alley including Knockturn, a significant part of Hogsmeade, Rookwill, even Greville Town and the surrounding areas; the little villages scattered around Hogwarts. The Ministry of Magic building. Godric's Hollow, however, remained untouched - so was Hogwarts itself.

The areas conquered however were under a separate reign; under Lord Voldemort. Where the border lines were drawn, and only those whose blood were deemed pure or worthy enough were allowed to enter... the fine line between Muggles and wizards was marked clearly by the bloodshed in that war.

Hogwarts now acted as the only bridge left to mend the rift between purebloods and the latter; the only place where both kinds of wizards were allowed to mix freely.

For most it sounded like a tragedy; but for some parts, the change brought good too. Old pureblood families who had always detested Muggles were now content; the muggles had already been completely moved from their homes to the 'Impure' region- the non- wizarding community was safe at last.

In the established 'Pure' region, Voldemort built his empire and grew steadily; establishing a new Ministry of magic of their own. As for the old Ministry, they had relocated it to a temporary location which was in high profile secrecy; Fudge had long since been sacked, and Kingsley was now the acting officer.

...Britain was never quite the same again.

* * *

_Riddle Manor_

_A Month Later_

"The meeting is over."

At a simple gesture of Voldemort's hand, there was the scraping of chairs and the rest of the Death- Eaters who were now acting as officers in the Pure empire- hastily stood and left. The younger wizard sitting at his right hand also stood, but fingers closed in a vice- like grip around the other's wrist and yanked Harry downwards.

Harry allowed himself to fall back a tad ungracefully into his seat, his face registering surprise- but even so Voldemort felt it was an improvement. For the past month, Harry had remained completely emotionless; unmoved and impassive to almost everything he did.

"My lord?" Harry questioned, as the double doors closed softly behind them.

Voldemort did not speak, instead he left Harry pondering in silence until the last of the footsteps had faded away. It was only then when he appraised the boy for what felt like the first time in months... and for that brief moment he wondered if he should have done things a little differently, but the notion was gone within the second.

Harry looked defeated; there was no other better word to describe it... and in a sense he was. He was tied to being a supporter of the Dark Lord's cause, bound forever to the 'Pure' region where he had sworn his allegiance. The Wizarding community was already divided; only few were allowed to cross the boundaries, and it was only with consent from both parties that admission was given.

Harry stared resolutely at the table before him, his arms itching to fold across his chest- but he kept them by his side with much difficulty, posture still straight though his expression did not suggest the slightest hint of submission.

"During the battle, a month ago," Voldemort began suddenly, his ruby red eyes never leaving Harry's face, "you may wonder how you managed to survive the Killing Curse."

There was a flicker of emotion across the younger's face, but it was quickly over, replaced by a completely nonplussed impassive mask.

"You were one of my Horcruxes Harry," Voldemort said flatly, watching greedily as he detected both shock and surprise from the boy sitting across him. "I planted a part of my soul in you which tied round your magical core, gifting you the ability to speak Parseltongue, and amongst that, you were marked the heir to Salazar Slytherin."

Heavy silence fell for a moment, Harry once again staring blankly at Voldemort, his gaze no longer penetrating; cold, but dead, silent.

"When you were hit by the Killing curse, the spell's dark magic chose to eliminate that weaker piece of life compared to your magical aura- my Horcrux" Voldemort continued relentless. "But you may find your ability to speak to snakes has not diminished... I implanted more than my soul in you Harry. I invested my own magical core." He smiled mirthlessly. "It may be that while you no longer feel intense pain in your scar around me, but there will always be a shadow of it."

Harry's eyes seemed to narrow slightly at this, but otherwise he gave no reply.

There was a long silence after that. Voldemort stared at Harry, willing the boy to show the slightest bit of emotion- frustration, anger even- he wanted the boy to lash out; he wanted to see the brimming confidence, the power he had once built up in his young warrior; he didn't even know why. But there was nothing left; just an empty shell.

Even Harry's aura, which had always been magnificent and annoyingly dominating, had retracted back slightly, as if Harry were holding back. It felt no longer as strong as it was when Harry had been actively rebelling against him, not as strong as it ought to be. It wasn't really- but it still felt _weak._

"You said you were tired of this," Voldemort said at last with a sigh, "Stop fighting me, Harry."

This seemed to provoke a slight reaction, and Voldemort felt a twinge of triumph as he watched Harry's eyes narrow slightly, though the boy's tone was perfectly submissive.

"I don't know what you mean, my Lord."

It was a wonder how the boy could make a submissive, meek sentence sound both annoying and challenging. Voldemort felt his temper with the boy snap.

"_Do not lie to me Harry," _he hissed, "you know perfectly well what I mean. You sworn to be fighting on my side-"

"- _I have," _Harry interrupted, but was cut across by Voldemort.

"- but not whole- heartedly. I see you hesitate, I see you glance across the borders to the Impure region during the Mark." I see you turn away, eyes hooded and lifeless each time. "You claim submission, but you aren't. You are acting like a petulant teenager being grounded and I am not tolerating this behaviour any longer."

Harry could scarcely believe his ears. "Excuse me?!" he very nearly spluttered, unaware this was the first time in months he had spoken to Voldemort out of turn. "How does me obeying your every single bloody order tie in with a _petulant teenager!"_

"You ignore me unless you're forced to reply," Voldemort deadpanned.

"I thought that's what your _followers _are supposed to do," he didn't bother keeping the sneer out of his voice.

"Problem being _you are not my follower."_

Harry stopped short, the words dying in his throat, stunned into silence. What was that supposed to mean now? With Voldemort's second intentions and double meanings you could never really tell, but still...

"Meet me in the hallway at eight sharp tonight Harry," Voldemort said at last, effectively breaking the silence as he rose to leave. "It's been ages since you dueled me."

For a moment Harry had the sudden urge to ask "Are you really Voldemort?"- really, the day had been full with surprises. But as the familiar ruby red gaze held his once more, he just nodded in reply, before pausing at Voldemort's raised eyebrow.

"Yes... father."

Voldemort cocked his head to one side. "In the unlikely event you do beat me, Harry... I'll grant you the night off. Free reign. One night only."

He turned to walk away, barely holding in a satisfied smirk as he watched Harry stare after him with an almost comical surprised expression.

* * *

_Potter Manor_

Damien stared out of the window lost in thought. It was raining heavily outside, the sky overcast with dark angry clouds which refused to scatter, and he was beginning to feel increasingly anxious. Harry _had _promised to drop by one last time, and if he gave his word, he knew his elder brother would come despite the rainy weathers these days... yet weeks had passed since the Marking... Harry had still failed to appear.

He grew increasingly frustrated each day, pacing restlessly by the window every night just in case Harry arrived late but his wait was always in vain. Often he would wake up blearily to sunlight glaring at him through the window, his neck aching from slumping over at an awkward angle, and he would crawl to bed and stay there till afternoon.

It wasn't healthy, really- he would be disorientated and half- awake throughout the day, but he couldn't just roll over and fall asleep with his inner voice screaming at him to turn around and watch the window for a glimpse of his elder brother._  
_

Truth was, he was worried. Part of him knew and understood now, that Harry could never live with them anymore- when Harry turned up a day before the Marking, breathless, almost panicky when he couldn't find Damien in his room. He still remembered walking in from dinner with the Weasleys to greatest shock of his life; Harry pacing up and down by the window impatiently.

There wasn't much to say; merely Harry telling him in an oddly flat and detached tone he wouldn't be coming back. There had been an edge of pain to it when Harry said it, as though silently pleading, and Damien couldn't bring himself to protest- what good would it do anyway?- and he had said a simple 'okay'. He also managed to hand over Harry's ring, the Pensive, which he had found hidden inside the cracked Layhoo Jisteen. It had taken Damien hours to pry it apart.

Harry had actually dropped by to check on Damien, but Damien insisted he was fine except for quite a number of cool scars criss- crossing over his back. In the end, the youngest Potter couldn't quite manage a scowl when Harry ruffled his hair with a slight laugh and called him a scarred stubborn lion. Whatever that meant. Then his elder brother was gone once more, soaring into the night with the faintest shaky promise that maybe, someday he'd drop by to see his family again.

It seemed rather hollow to Damien, nevertheless he was here waiting again. But as he cast his eyes out into the rain, he couldn't help but feel a little discouraged; he shut the window and climbed into bed, pulling the covers high up above his head to block out the pitter- patter of the raindrops against the roof.

Naturally, on the first night Damien decided to shut the window, Harry decided to turn up. The elder of the pair was barely keeping his broom steady in the howling wind, and much to Harry's brief annoyance Damien had decided to lock the latches as well. Which meant they would not be yielding to any spell unless you were inside. He had cast the impenetrable spell himself after all.

'Here goes' Harry thought wryly, and blasted the window off its hinges with a wave of his hand. He landed lightly in the middle of the room, and another quick charm had the window mended once more.

He turned around grinning slightly, adrenaline still coursing through him from the duel. They had fought over an _hour; _his muscles were still screaming from Voldemort's creative hexes. He really ought to train more intensively these days. But at the prospect of a single night of free reign, it had drove him even harder still to fight.

Already envisioning the open- mouthed shocked Damien staring at him, Harry crossed the middle of the room. Damien was still sound asleep. The boy was utterly _unbelievable. _

He snapped his fingers loudly, and his dripping broom was levitated to float directly above Damien. Still no response, not even when droplets of water started dripping from his broom right into Damien's open mouth. Damien snorted slightly and turned away.

Pursing his lips, Harry proceeded to have his Firebolt shake itself dry all over Damien, particularly his face. Damien frowned for a while before suddenly bolting upright with a cry of "bloody hell!"

"You seriously need to upgrade the security of this place," Harry said in a dissatisfied sort of voice. "Honestly Damy, I blasted your window apart to get in here, and you didn't even wake up."

Damien did a double take when he saw Harry and nearly toppled off the bed. Harry's Firebolt gave an encouraging swish, and the youngest Potter promptly slid off the mattress altogether.

"_Ow! _Yuck- Harry get your bloody broom off me!"

Harry laughed, his eyes sparkling with mirth, before reaching out a hand and plucking the broom out of the air. It fell still immediately.

"I swallowed the _mud _off your broom!" Damien protested, his face scrunching up in disgust. "You're awful."

Harry shrugged. "Guess you won't be wanting your present, then?"

Damien's eyes lit up, though he remained confused. "What present? Hey wait- this isn't some sort of stupid farewell present is it? And how did you manage to come back here?"

"It _is _past twelve you know," Harry continued, before his grin widened as a slow, idiotic smile spread over Damien's face. "Ah, the moment of revelation," he commented.

Damien's face was so comical Harry had a hard time trying to maintain a straight face. "It's my birthday!" the youngest Potter sounded completely amazed at the fact. "That would explain- the Dad's been behaving suspiciously... Merlin, I can't believe it's _my birthday!"_

Damien proceeded to do bizarre jump on his bed, like a five year old on Christmas Eve; he was grinning so widely Harry thought his face was going to split in half.

"Salazar Damy, calm down," Harry hissed, "You're going to wake up half the house at this rate!"

"Half of the house is already awake," Damien pointed out, though he complied by sitting himself comfortably on the bed, Harry across him. "So, what did you get me?" he asked eagerly.

On impulse Harry transfigured a glittering black stone out of thin air just to see Damien's reaction.

Damien gaped, desperately but failing to hide his dismay. "A new Layhoo Jisteen?!"

Harry laughed, "No. Draco said it was a bad idea, so I switched."

Damien's eyes widened. "You've visited Draco?"

Harry nodded, his smile fading a little. "Around the same time I visited you... before the Marking," he confirmed with a shrug.

"And yet you refused to see mum and dad," Damien said accusingly.

"I didn't have that much time Damy," Harry sighed. "I wasn't even supposed to leave that time, I went back on my word- I just- " Harry broke off. "Anyway, I'm here, aren't I?"

"Hang on, does that mean you're coming here with permission? And you're going to see mum and dad?" Damien said excitedly. Harry rolled his eyes.

"Yes, I will... and I suppose there was a sort of permission. I guess." If Voldemort hadn't forbidden him to come to Potter Manor, he would have said so, right...? After all the Dark Lord did promise free reign.

"I'm not opening your present until I've opened all the others" Damien suddenly declared. "I'm saving yours for last, so it'd better be good."

And also, it'd give him an excuse to make Harry stay longer.

Harry opened his mouth to protest, but Damien had already bounded off the bed in excitement, rushing for the door.

"Come on Harry," he said in a whisper, a mischievous look on his face. "Let's go give Mum and Dad a fright."

x

James and Lily were sitting in the kitchen, a pot of strong coffee brewing on the table. James was holding a piece of flesh- coloured string to his ear, and seemed to be listening rather intently.

"I'm going to ask Fred and George to remodel this," he grumbled. "The conversation alert sensors are working fine, but the signals I get here are far too slow. Everything I hear is almost certainly one minute late."

Lily's eyes were bright with excitement, and she too was leaning forward eagerly, her grip on the cup of warm coffee so tight James was half- afraid it might break.

"What are they saying? Is Harry okay?" she asked. "He never dropped by since before the Marking, has he?"

It turned out that James had managed to overhear Harry's conversation with Damien the night before the Marking, when he had passed by Damien's room after they came back from the Weasleys and heard Damien's cry of surprise. He had been a step away from retracing his steps back to Damien's door, but then he'd heard a second voice- _Harry's _voice.

Lily found out later, too, and both parents had, with some measure of guilt, listened in to their conversation. They felt hurt that Harry did not plan to come and see them, though in the end they chose not to step into Damien's room.

"Just let him choose, James," Lily had said with a whisper in James' ear, "I know he'll try his best to come back... and if he wants to see us-" she choked off in the middle of her sentence, and James squeezed her hand reassuringly as he led her away from Damien's room.

"He will," he said comfortingly, though he knew his heart was searing, just as Lily's was. "He promised he would, if he had the chance."

But James was reluctant to leave it at that; it was selfish of him he knew, but he wanted to at least hear his son's voice, if not see Harry again. So with help from Fred and George Weasley, including Sirius, had remodeled their Extendable Ears to pick up any conversation going on in Damien's room.

Meanwhile, Damien and Harry were creeping down the stairs, towards the kitchen light. Harry frowned slightly when he heard his parent's hushed voices, but on catching his name being mentioned, he motioned for Damien to stop.

"What are they saying?" Lily was asking, her voice whispered and excited.

James frowned. "The signal's getting worse- there's a lot of noise... oh, Damy's getting hyper about his birthday."

Outside the kitchen, Damien's mouth dropped open with burning indignance. James had been _eavesdropping?!_

There was a moment of silence, in which Damien itched to throw open the kitchen door and demand an explanation that instant. With the combined effect of Harry's appearance, it would certainly give them a good shock...

"They're coming!" James gasped suddenly. "They've already left the room- quick hide this- "

"Are you sure reeling in the Ears is a good idea-" Lily began, and there was a hasty scraping of chairs-

_Bang!_

The kitchen door opened with a crash, even louder than the heavy rain outside, and Harry briefly wondered if Voldemort's love for dramatic entrances had influenced him more than it should.

"Too late for that," Damien said breezily, striding in first, trying hard not to laugh at the panic and shocked look on James' face. "I eavesdropped on you too!"

If James mouth was hanging open at that comment, his jaw fell to the floor as he saw Harry appearing from behind the shadows, mixed emotions sparkling in his emerald green eyes even as he smiled at the sight of Lily and James, still frozen in their attempts of putting away the Extendable Ears.

The next moment, Lily had her arms around Harry, so was James', and in their haste to reach their eldest son, they completely forgot about the Extendable Ear coils of string they were still holding. One of the coils managed to fall neatly around Harry's neck, and Damien subtly jerked it, hard.

Harry choked slightly, and Lily must have thought that Harry was overcome by emotions, for she clung onto him harder, and reigning in his relief and joy to be with his family with much difficulty- Harry stabbed Damien a vicious glare over James' shoulder.

"Well, it isn't fair that the birthday boy doesn't get any attention, is it?" Damien said wryly with a grin.

x

They threw the surprise birthday party for Damien (which was supposed to occur at dawn) a few hours early, and all the Weasleys were invited over as well. An extremely disheveled but excited Hermione turned up a few minutes late. And as James had neglected to mention that Harry would be present, there was much gawking and cries of delight and surprise when the visitors arrived.

When that happened in the fourth row, Harry rolled his eyes and slumped back in his seat. "Honestly, maybe I should have just waited for everyone to appear before making a dramatic entrance. At least the gawking would only happen once."

"Hey you'd steal my limelight!" Damien objected jokingly.

"Spoiled brat," Harry muttered in reply, though he was still smiling.

Within minutes, a full- party was in progress. After the main course was over, (thankfully Molly and Lily had decided to prepare the food and keep a Freshening Charm on them a few hours prior), Ron, Hermione and Ginny went over to sit with Damien and Harry.

"Blimey, I can't believe you're Kit!" was the first thing Ron thought of saying.

Damien laughed at this before sobering a little as he remembered Kit's darkened eyes glaring at him. He'd almost forgotten about Harry's impersonation of Kit Mason- he had mentally classified them as two different people.

Harry must have noticed this, for he gave Damien a sidelong look and started, "I never brought it u-"

"Shut up," Damien ordered swiftly.

Harry raised his eyebrows. "Been learning Legilimency now, Damy?"

"It's obvious what you were going to say. The Room of Requirement disaster of a training session," Damien said with a shrug. "It's all over now anyway, and besides I already know how creepy you get when you go mental. So it doesn't really tarnish much of your reputation, really."

Harry shot a half- hearted glare at Damien, which the other returned easily with his trademark grins.

"I thought you were holding back in Defense class," Hermione said almost triumphantly, "the Stunner heading for you, you were practically _glaring _at it-"

"You should have won Neville," Ron said. "You shouldn't have let him win."

Harry rolled his eyes. "There was no point. Anyway, you were the one that got second- _you_ weren't supposed to let him win."

"And moving on to Transfiguration, really Harry," Hermione began in a lecture- tone sort of voice and Damien had to smother a grin.

Ron suddenly gasped, "- your refusal to participate in Transfiguration class, McGonagall thought you had-"

"-Self- esteem problems-"

They promptly burst out laughing at that. Harry resigned himself to his fate with a groan as Ron and Hermione started to recount more and more embarrassing tales about his impersonation as Kit at Hogwarts, to which Damien listened with rapt attention.

Only Ginny remained oddly silent, the laughs and smiles she gave not as vibrant as they should have been. While Ron and Hermione were recounting yet again his disastrous Potions lesson with Draco Malfoy, he quietly signaled for her to leave with him.

They sneaked out through the kitchen back door into the night, where they sat on the slightly damp doorstep in the wet chilly night. The rain had receded back into the clouds, where there had been a full- blown storm, now all that remained was a slight drizzle.

"I thought about you," Ginny was the first to break the silence, "A lot."

Harry turned to look at her; her deep brown eyes held a tinge of sadness, with a contradictory sense of relief and joy. She didn't look teary at all, only a mixture of jumbled emotions. And wasn't that just what everyone felt right now?

He remained silent, allowing her to continue.

"Basically just about following you romping around England searching Horcruxes, you falling sick... Merlin, that feels like ages ago, doesn't it?" She paused slightly. "It's just sometimes, I wonder- when I missed you so much, I wanted you to return-... do you still remember me?" she asked in a rush, and suddenly Harry knew what was that she was bothered by so much.

"Not just as Ginny Weasley whom Kit Mason met at Hogwarts, though I did think you a decent guy then," Ginny added, recalling her having breakfast with the new 'transfer student' and the introduction of Winky. "As the person you first met. As Harry Potter."

Harry had a sudden vision of Ginny's seemingly younger face, standing at the edge of the roof, a look of utter terror on her face. Her brown eyes widening with joy as her orange bubble shield expanded before her, the feeling of warmth spreading through him when he saw her smile...

"Sometimes I do," he replied quietly, honestly, hating the way he couldn't give her any hope. "The memories... they're coming back to me slowly, like a haze. Sometimes I'm not even sure which are real and which aren't, all of them seem like a distant dream."

Ginny gave a shrug and looked away. "I thought so," she said lightly.

"I remember you trying to cast the shield... you were there when we were trying to get the Golden Quill," he recalled, broken pieces of pictures flashing through his mind as he tugged on them insistently. His eyes widened suddenly. "- Riddle Manor-"

There was a brief pause as Harry looked rather surprised at his newly recovered memory. Ginny couldn't help but smile at his expression. "You _did _kiss me you know," she said teasingly.

Harry's eyes glittered with amusement before it faded. "Nigel- " he started. "...I haven't seen him for a year."

"He's grown quite a bit- definitely too heavy for me to swing about anymore," Ginny said with a slight smile on her face. "He seems to have forgotten about the entire Riddle Manor incident." A pause, before- "He still remembers you, you know."

Harry looked up, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "Really?"

"Alice says sometimes he would ask her where Alex has gone. Alice always told Nigel you weren't around anymore... guess you coming back to life has to be explained all over again," Ginny said with a laugh.

Harry sobered quite suddenly, and he looked away from her, his emerald gaze trained on the skies, where the first cracks of dawn were beginning to appear.

"Ginny," he said slowly, "I... you realize, I'm not going to be around anymore."

"You're here now," she pointed out flatly.

"It's different... it all depends on him," Harry met her gaze evenly. "He's shown me more leniency than he ever had to all the others, I recognize that- but despite everything, I'm forever still bound to him. Not by any magic or oath, but my own word, Ginny- I sworn to be on his side forever."

He had never admitted this aloud to anyone, not even Damien nor his parents. "I can't just return whenever I feel like it. I'm under _his _control."

"Is it... suffocating?" she asked gently, trying to hold the emotion out of her voice. "Do you mind being with him, or if given the chance, you would leave him?"

Harry stilled, not expecting the question.

"It's just as well that I don't have a choice," Harry said at last, "I don't know the answer. I'm forever torn between both sides. I miss my family, all of you more than you can imagine- and whenever the emptiness gets too great there's nothing to do about it but duel myself in the training grounds until I crumble." He paused. "But Voldemort... he was the one who raised me, Ginny... I know he hurt and manipulated me, and sometimes I hate him so intensely I just wanted him to burn. Like I did all his Horcruxes. Other times..." he trailed off, unable to complete his sentence. "I don't even understand it myself," he admitted.

"How long will you be around?" Ginny asked finally, her voice almost half a whisper.

"I'm leaving soon," Harry said, his voice just as soft, meeting her eyes once more. "I'm sorry Ginny, but... this can't work. You should move on; heaven knows you deserve to."

"I know I should," Ginny said softly, and for once, there was a hint of tears in her eyes. Not only because Harry would rarely ever be around- because he could barely remember her anymore. Sure, broken memories and pictures forming dreams, but he probably wouldn't feel the same way. It was vague. Like a distant dream, he had said. "But just for the last time," she said, her voice only a light whisper now, "allow me this."

And she leaned in and kissed him lightly on the lips.

* * *

Harry returned to the Manor as the faint traces of dawn were beginning to streak across the sky. As he stumbled tiredly up the steps back to his quarter, an unfamiliar voice suddenly hailed him.

"Prince, I need to speak to you."

Harry turned around, surprised as he met Regulus Black, still under the disguise of Professor Wynter.

"A private setting would be more suitable," the man continued. "If you would allow me."

Feeling exhausted yet curious or the same, Harry eyed him and finally gave the man an imperceptible nod. Wordlessly, he then followed the man round the entrance of the Manor to a secluded spot in the gardens; a slight cavern held up by a fallen tree. Harry was surprised by how well Regulus Black knew the area; the last time Harry had been here he'd been 6 years old playing with Draco.

Harry raised an eyebrow as Wynter finished placing the wards around them.

"I take it you've realized my true identity," Wynter began, gaining confirmation from the slight narrowing of Harry's eyes.

"This is the last time you will see me before I leave for the Impure region," Wynter continued, and without further explanation he held up a familiar golden locket with a snake engraved in it. Harry stilled with shock at the sight of it.

"That's a fake," Harry said, "I destroyed the real locket."

"I assure you it's real... you can feel it for yourself."

Wynter passed the locket to Harry, who immediately felt his scar twinge slightly as his fingers closed around the locket. "...How?"

"I realize there is no point on holding onto this any longer," the elder wizard said with a shrug. "The war is over and may it be as such permanently. Before, I was a traitor to the Dark Lord's cause... I switched lockets, the real one for the fake."

"But I always felt the connection when I wore the other locket," Harry argued, still staring at the last remaining Horcrux in his hands.

"Your ring is another one," Wynter said with a slight twisted smile on his face. "You may wonder how a mere child could ever have the courage to point a wand at a man and kill. You poured out your memories into that Pensive... Pettigrew believed that you were partially influenced by the Horcrux in it when you murdered the man. The Dark Lord hid his soul deep inside the Pensive."

Harry stared at the man, completely dumbfounded by the sudden revelation.

"...he just wanted you to know," Wynter said at last. "Pettigrew, I mean. He knew I was a turncoat... he told me all of this before he was tortured into insanity." He shrugged. "I figured you would have wanted to know."

Wynter bowed his head a little and turned to walk off.

"Thank you," Harry said, and suddenly remembering his previous conversation with Sirius Black, Harry called out, "Your brother is looking for you."

Regulus paused but did not turn around, his figure tense. "I don't have one," he said coldly.

"Sirius knows the truth already," Harry said, "and I told him you were alive. He's been searching everywhere for you ever since he found out. Just in case you want to know, you can find him at the Black Manor."

Harry nodded at the man once and left the gardens of Riddle Manor; while Wynter left for the Impure region for good.

They never crossed paths again.

* * *

The next morning, as per Voldemort's order, Harry was sitting at the large grand table in the middle of the hall again. The feeling was oddly familiar yet foreign.

Minutes ticked past in silence as Harry silently trailed his fingers across the locket under the table. Holding onto the past wouldn't have made things any different, he thought. It would only make things worse. And frankly, he wasn't even angry at Voldemort's manipulation, not when the offence took place so many years ago. He was almost numb.

Voldemort had manipulated him to make his first kill, but his second, third... all the rest he had done of his own accord.

"Father," Harry said abruptly, and without further explanation he held up the locket for Voldemort to see. Ruby red eyes narrowed at this.

"There was a traitor in our midst... it seems that he swapped lockets. The one you gave me was a fake. This is the real Horcrux... it's yours."

Voldemort's face remained a dangerous calm, completely devoid of any emotion.

"The traitor is no more," Harry added for good measure, making to drop the locket on the table between them both, but Voldemort's fingers suddenly curled around his, preventing him from releasing the locket.

"If you think I can trust you with the locket one last time, Harry," he said, "hold on to it."

Harry almost faltered under the gaze. "I destroyed- " he began, but Voldemort cut in sharply.

"Think of this as a new game. I do not tolerate failures, Harry, surely you understand that."

Not for the last time, Harry stared, silent, back at his father, Voldemort's words ringing and spinning off into a hundred different meanings and definitions. Harry swallowed as cold fingers released him. Slowly, under Voldemort's watchful gaze, he looped the golden locket over his head, tucking the locket out of sight beneath his robes. It was cold against his heart.

"I'm not even sure why I'm saying this," Harry began, looking directly at his father. "But thank you."

Voldemort merely smirked in reply, though it was the closest thing to a smile. "You're welcome, son."

**A/N: Yes, this is the end! :) Please review? Tell me what you think! It's the closest thing to a fairytale ending right? I can't believe I've actually finished a story. Anyway I need to be waking up tomorrow at 5 a.m. so I better go sleep right now... do at least rate, pretty please?**

**:D for awesome**

**O for okay**

**X for terrible**

**PS how did my first attempt at romance go? eek, I dont write romance but since Ginny and Harry were kind of together in TDW I thought I should at least mention what happened haha. Did the ending seem kind of rushed? I don't know, since I'm kind of rushed right here... okay I'm rambling again. So, um, bye!**

_Signing out from the Second Chance  
Epsilon Scorpii_


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